


Favored Attention

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "friends with benefits" lmao yeah right, ... listen, Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Caught, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Dildos, Dirty Pictures, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, OKAY LISTEN, Panic Attacks, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Threesome - M/M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Voyeurism, camboy john marston, charles is making an appearance but it's still mostly john/arthur okay?, not between arthur and john YET, ranch hand arthur, the briefest rimjob sorry i'll come back to that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: Nights like this are his favorite, where it feels like he could stay this high forever.His patrons being civil… Hell, generous, tipping and tipping and egging him on, rewarding his sounds and teasing him to hell and back.Fuck, he loves it.‘That your boyfriend’s shirt? Bet he doesn’t know.’John reads over the message a couple times, feeling his face flush, he can’t help but duck his head slightly, a feeble sound escaping him as he moves his hand down to choke the base of his cock.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan, John Marston/Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 160
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> John’s handle is ripvan;)le as per Munchy’s suggestion
> 
> I got this prompt stuck in my head but wanted to get some other whips further on before i started this so whoops
> 
> I was so dEEPLY tempted to make the title a Doja cat reference but i restrained myself
> 
> edit: just so we're clear this isn't exactly an idealized version of online sex work but some of the rougher bits aren't hashed out the same way they would be if this were a more serious and realistic fic about camming alright? all of this is first or second hand knowledge of online sex work okay so dont at me is2fg

“I’ll be back late,” Arthur calls over his shoulder as he’s sorting out his jacket and keys.

John keeps himself carefully lax, laying on the couch with a leg slung over the armrest. 

"How late?" 

"Dunno, we're hauling a couple stallions upstate," Arthur shrugs on his jacket and John tracks the movement of the older man's hands as Arthur fixes his collar. 

"You drivin' straight back?"

"God willin'," Arthur mutters and pauses behind the couch as he heads to the garage, "You need anythin'?"

"Nah," John stretches languidly, slumping back into the cushions, "... Drive safe."

Arthur snorts quietly and tips one of the cushions over so it smothers John's face. 

By the time John wrangles the cushion off Arthur's already gone. 

He licks his lips nervously and glances at the clock on the stove, then at the closed door to the garage. 

Listening as Arthur's truck roars to life, the garage door opens, the truck pulls out and the door closes again. 

It's half-past seven, and he has an hour to get ready. 

If he went live earlier he could typically catch some international audience. 

He has a little notebook in his dresser with too many negative numbers and a couple bundles of cash. 

Arthur's too fast, or maybe just knows him too well, gets suspicious if John brings more than a hundred to the table, and doesn't disappear from the house for a suitably long amount of time coinciding with a 'job' that would warrant that kind of money.

His first few shows weren’t lucrative in the slightest, he’d see people passing through but no one said anything in the chat. 

He, admittedly, didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, his laptop’s webcam balanced on his shins, aimed at his shaky hand stroking over his cock. 

Nothing special, low effort, not niche enough. 

_‘You gotta draw ‘em in, John,’_ Abigail had said with a sly grin after she’d been leaning over his shoulder and recognized an auto-fill in his search bar. 

_‘Be something memorable, interact, show ‘em you’re enjoyin’ yourself, or even better, that you’re enjoyin’ bein’ watched.’_

So John changed his set up, moved his long dresser to the foot of his bed and figured out how to fit the whole bed in frame.

There’s a bit of mess in his room right now, but it’s mostly out of the way. 

John leans against the door frame and surveys his room. 

There are certain things he won’t fold on, when it comes to his regular viewers, highest tippers. 

No, he won’t call you daddy. 

No, he won’t take off the handkerchief.

No, you can’t see the rest of his scars. 

And no _fucking_ way will he even acknowledge your comment if you call him ‘bitch’, ‘babygirl’, ‘slut’ or anything of the like. 

He’d had… An incident, early on in this venture, where one viewer was determined to degrade him through the little text bubbles with triple digits sitting pretty next to a dollar sign. 

At first, it made him feel sick, had him physically hesitating, wondering if he was cut out for this. 

And then he got angry, ended up cutting the stream short and sulking in the living room for the rest of the day. 

His excuse when Arthur got home was that his job fell through and that hadn’t entirely been a lie. 

He still felt a pinch of guilt when Arthur had given him a little hug, just a brief, comforting gesture, before the older man turned in that night. 

John thumbs through his clothes to find the nicer options. 

Slim-fitting boxer-briefs that he’d hardly worn when they fit better, and now took advantage of their snugness.

One of Arthur’s old band shirts. 

He had multiple reasons why he chose to wear the old, oversized shirts. 

Some of which he was more prepared to acknowledge than others. 

The long hair, his scars, the black handkerchief covering his face, the scattering of tattoos on his arms and legs… Well, Abigail insisted it gave him a certain _image._

In this circle at least, it screamed bad-boy, brat, punk who needed to be put in his place. 

That was appealing, apparently. 

The other, less readily admitted reason was that the shirts were comfortable. 

Physically, obviously, well-worn for almost a decade by Arthur before they were handed down to him, loose and cool and easy to shove up his chest, bite down on and keep out of the way when he inevitably came all over himself. 

But emotionally, they were comfortable, a little shroud of safety he could don, generic enough that they didn’t look out of place. 

Shirt on, boxers slung low on his hips, he ties the bandana around his face, just below his eyes. 

He can feel himself getting hard, swallows weakly. 

Then goes to find his laptop ready to get it set up. 

\--

Nights like this are his favorite, where it feels like he could stay this high forever. 

His patrons being civil… Hell, _generous,_ tipping and tipping and egging him on, rewarding his sounds and teasing him to hell and back. 

Fuck, he loves it. 

_‘That your boyfriend’s shirt? Bet he doesn’t know.’_

John reads over the message a couple times, feeling his face flush, he can’t help but duck his head slightly, a feeble sound escaping him as he moves his hand down to choke the base of his cock. 

“Shut up,” John groans weakly, biting his lip to keep his eyes from crinkling with a smile. 

He admittedly has a few favorites of his regulars, a couple fellas that just know how to get him riled up. 

_‘Come on Rip you’re being coy today.’_

“You keep on teasin’ me I’ll keep holdin’ off,” John says lowly. 

_‘Any plans for tonight?’_ Someone else asks. 

“Uh-huh,” John shifts on the bed and scoots down, yanking some of the pillows from behind him and shoving them under his hips. 

He can’t read the chat as easily at this angle, but he starts to hear the chiming of tips coming in. 

John yanks the shirt up and shoves his underwear off, grabbing the little bottle of lube that’d nestled in the bunched up comforter. 

He gets his fingers slicked up, spreads his legs, almost smiles at the overlapping chiming that follows. 

\--

“You know I don’t have anythin’,” John says hoarsely, “That ain’t changed in a week.”

_‘You should get one.’_

The comment inspires a litany of ‘please’s and promises of bigger tips. 

Even a couple of offers to send him toys. 

He laughs shallowly then presses his lips together on a whine. 

He’s so close, weakly propped up on one elbow, fingers pressed deep and crooked just right. 

He can see words of praise popping up in the chat, a lot of ‘come on baby’s and ‘so close’s. 

“Fuck,” John whimpers and drops his head back, closing his eyes, feeling his cock twitching and coming back down on his belly, smearing in the pool of precome. 

“You still up? Who are you talkin’ to?”

John tenses, sitting up sharply and ripping his fingers out himself in a highly uncomfortable way. 

Staring at the door. 

“... Hello?” Arthur calls, “J-?”

“I’m up!” John says quickly, glancing between the chat and the closed door. 

He can feel precome dripping down cock and has to shift carefully. 

The door’s not locked, not even fully latched, fuck, oh fuck. 

That’s their rule, if one of their doors is latched, baring emergency, the other won’t open it without permission. 

But he didn’t latch his fucking door. 

He glances at the clock in the corner of the screen, sees it’s already nearing two. 

“Shit,” John whispers, watching messages roll through only to be quickly replaced by another and another. 

All exclaiming shock and excitement, a couple of worried ‘was this planned’s passing by. 

He barely gets the comforter over his cock before the door is nudged open, but it’s useless, with the way he looks, the bottle of lube open on the dresser, the bandana, the laptop. 

_Fuck._

Arthur’s tired face greets him, expression slowly morphing into confusion and then shock. 

“Oh shit, sorry,” Arthur says and struggles for a second, mouth working like he wants to say something. 

Then his eyes catch the laptop, register the setup.

His brows furrow and he slowly looks back to John. 

"... What are you doin'?" Arthur asks quietly. 

Not a nervous kind of quiet, not a confused kind of quiet. 

A deadly angry kind of quiet that tells John that Arthur knows _exactly_ what he's doing.

John glances at the chat as a few chimes sound out. 

His eyebrows rising sharply at the dollar value attached to them. 

"J-," Arthur cuts himself short and takes a few steps closer. 

"I… Uh," John shifts onto his knees and quickly sifts the notifications to see who dropped the bigger tips. 

He sees 'r/caughtandcontinued' pop up while he's looking and let's slip a short, hysterical laugh. 

Arthur shifts in his peripheral and John refuses to look up. 

"Don't pass the foot of the bed," John says hoarsely. 

_"Why?"_ Arthur asks lowly.

The tone sends a thrill of worry down his spine. 

"Hold on," John pleads weakly.

He finds the biggers tips and reads the message over what feels like a dozen times. 

Sitting back slowly. 

There's a lot of chatter happening among the viewers, speculation on who just interrupted, whether this was planned or if 'Rip’ is safe. 

"I'm fine, guys," John says quickly, "And no, I don't think he'll join."

"What the hell?" He hears Arthur mutter and tenses. 

"I… I gotta go, sorry," John says hurriedly and quits the stream, going through the measures of making sure nothing is actually still recording, and then disconnecting the webcam. 

He then closes the laptop and sits back again, not looking up. 

"... How long you been doin' this?"

"Couple months."

Arthur sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

"I'm too tired for this," Arthur mutters and turns around, closing John's door harshly behind him. 

John sits, mostly idle, as he listens to the shower cut on, and off, and the house fall silent. 

"Fuck," John whispers and shoves off the bed, moving as quietly as possible as he cleans up. 


	2. Chapter 2

John hardly sleeps, like, really hardly, maybe only a few minutes every hour since Arthur got home. 

He hears when the older man gets up, hears Arthur go about cranking on the coffee maker, opening the blinds. 

John stares at the slow-moving fan blades listening to Arthur move around. 

“John?” He hears Arthur call, cringes, waits. 

Footsteps pad down the hall before coming to a stop at his door. 

“John?” Arthur asks again, voice quietly filtering through the door. 

“... Yeah?”

“You gon’ come out here or hide in there?”

John huffs and grumbles and fights off the covers, moving over to open the door slowly. 

He wants to look up at Arthur, wants to see in the older man’s eyes what he’s thinking. 

He can’t. 

“You want some coffee?” Arthur asks gently. 

“... Sure.”

\--

Arthur’s at least gracious enough to wait for John to get his coffee mug and hop up onto the counter. 

“... Why?”

“Needed money,” John murmurs, “And you know it’s slow ‘round here.”

“You know that I got it covered now, John, with the promotion,” Arthur says quietly. 

“I ain’t lettin’ you ‘cover’ everythin’,” John says sharply, “That wasn’t the deal.”

Arthur sighs heavily, frowning at him as he plants himself across the galley kitchen from John.

\--

"When you…" John clears his throat roughly and shifts on the couch, "There were a couple of, uh, _offers_."

"... 'Offers'?"

John presses his lips together and looks at the TV, pointedly avoiding Arthur's intense gaze. 

"Offers of money… More money, if you were to join me," John says quietly, "A lot more money."

"Join you how."

"Couple of the fellas that come 'round every show," John swallows thickly and pulls one leg up to hug it to his chest, "They… They really wanna see me get-"

"John," Arthur says hoarsely. 

"Sorry, sorry," John says quickly, "Shouldn't've brought it up."

Silence stretches between them.

"How much money?" Arthur asks, voice sticky like the words don't want to leave his throat. 

"The house," John plays with the tatters of denim around his knee, "Your car payment, gas..." 

"Jesus," Arthur mutters, covering his face with both hands. 

"You don't have to."

"... Do you want to?" 

John makes a small choked sound and looks over to Arthur quickly. 

"What?"

"I mean… Are you even willin'?"

"Yeah," John says too quickly and feels his stomach twist nervously.

"What have you been doin'?" Arthur asks slowly. 

"Just… Playin' with myself, they really want me to get some toy to use but I ain't particularly interested in havin' to show my face in one of them shops."

Arthur huffs quietly, just a small sound of amusement and it relaxes John slightly. 

"... What would I need to do?" Arthur asks quietly.

"... From what I saw, they wanted you to join me… Maybe take over."

"Hm."

"... Do _you_ want to?" John asks, and braces for the answer, expecting ifs and buts and all sorts or round about explanations as to why it was just for the money and not that he _actually_ wanted to-

"Yeah," Arthur says quietly. 

\--

"You sure?" John asks as he hovers the cursor over the start streaming button. 

Arthur shifts behind him, similarly dressed in a bandana, boxers, a band tee. 

"Go 'head."

John hesitates for a few calming breaths then hits the button and sits back with Arthur against the headboard.

He crosses his legs and his knee brushes Arthur's thigh.

He feels Arthur tense and then relax, the older man nudging him back lightly. 

"Don't say our names," John whispers as the stream is booting up.

"Y'okay, _Rip_."

John rolls his eyes and fidgets with his hair. 

The chat starts up, he's a couple minutes late but his viewers are faithful to the schedule. 

"Hey," John says quietly, and suddenly all the anxiety he'd been feeling seems to swell. 

He looks over at Arthur nervously and Arthur's got a brow raised at the chat. 

"'We've found the source of the shirts,'" Arthur reads from the chat, side-eyeing John and his old shirt that John's wearing. 

John flusters and looks back at the chat, letting everyone calm down before he speaks. 

"You can call him Crane," John says awkwardly. 

There's a small reaction to that reference before the chat is overtaken by questions about Arthur and who he is to John and what they've done. 

John shakes his head and makes a dismissive gesture. 

"No, we're not boyfriends, we're just roommates, long time friends, and no we've… Never done anythin'."

He settles back against the headboard, waiting for the response to that admission die down. 

'Rip's gonna lose his v card' John reads on the notification of a small tip and rolls his eyes. 

He and Arthur talked about this, and haltingly agreed to just go with what felt right. 

He trusts Arthur, without limitation. 

"Heard y'all treat him pretty well," Arthur says slowly, surprising John with a hand landing on the younger man's thigh. 

There's a positive reaction to Arthur's voice that John wholeheartedly agrees with. 

He squirms slightly as Arthur's fingers rub his inner thigh. 

"Alright, alright," John says quietly, "Christ y'all."

Arthur leans in until his lips are millimeters from John's ear. 

"How do you normally start?" Arthur murmurs. 

John presses his lips together, goosebumps covering his arms. 

He's usually hard before he even turns the camera on but today he'd been more nervous than anything. 

He looks at the webcam as he reaches down and grabs Arthur's hand, moving to the clothed bulge of his cock. 

Arthur's inhale is shaky, and so _so_ loud in his ear. 

Arthur squeezes and John makes a strangled sound, squirming a little harder. 

"S'it centered with the bed?" Arthur asks, nodding at the camera.

"Yeah," John says weakly.

"... C'mere," Arthur says gently and nudges John forward then scoots to the middle of the headrest, pulling John into his lap. 

Arthur looks over John's shoulder at the computer screen and watches the playback as he moves one hand from John's belly up, shucking up John's shirt. 

"Shit," John whispers and leans back into Arthur, arching his back as Arthur's other hand grazes his chest, fingertips catching on his nipples. 

"He a showoff on camera?" Arthur asks the chat, "Y'all let him be cocky?" 

John squeezes the comforter tightly on either side of Arthur's thighs. 

He stares at the ceiling, doesn't even try to see his viewers selling him out to Arthur. 

Arthur huffs a small laugh at something and John's cock twitches, fully hard at this point. 

Being displayed, he knows now, is far different than displaying himself.

Arthur slides one hand up to cup the front of John's neck, and the other down, fingertips teasing under the waistband of John's underwear. 

"Please," John whispers, then lifts his hand quickly to cover his mouth. 

"Don't be selfish, J-" Arthur swallows quietly then presses into John's neck, whispering softly enough the mic would never be able to pick it up _, "John."_

John whines and lifts his hips into the touch as Arthur's hand wraps around his cock. 

"Wanna hear you," Arthur says louder, "Bet they do too."

"Fuck," John whimpers and moves his hand to shove his boxers out of the way, looking down to watch Arthur's hand stroking him off. 

"Fuck, fuck," John squirms and fucks up into the grip before pressing back against Arthur. 

He looks up at the chat as a chime sounds out. 

There's a triple digit notification, one of his loyal viewers, one who'd promised a pretty penny to see the mystery man join. 

'Let us see what Crane's packing' 

"Hey," John says to Arthur, barely able to get the would out the word, nodding at the screen, "Look."

Arthur lifts his head to read, quirking a brow at the camera then nudging John.

"Why don't you show 'em for me?" Arthur asks and John shivers.

Arthur… Arthur's _so much_ right now, so different than John ever imagined. 

Arthur's always been good at playing pretend. 

It hurts, a bit, that this isn't an organic thing. 

But shit if he isn't gonna enjoy it. 

John shifts to the side and Arthur's hands leave him. 

He looks _so_ good. 

Leaning back against the headboard, cock bulging in his boxers, shirt just a little out of place, eyes _burning_ over the top of the blue bandana. 

An involuntary sound of want leaves John and he sees Arthur's eyes widen in surprise before crinkling in amusement. 

Arthur's hands are resting easy at his sides, in no way moving to help John. 

"Yessir," John says, just a little sarcastic. 

Not sarcastic enough.

Arthur shifts his legs a little further apart and John moves to kneel at Arthur's side, glancing at the camera. 

Hesitating, looking up at Arthur’s eyes, hesitating.

“Go on,” Arthur says lowly.

John ducks his head slightly but reaches forward, settling his hand on Arthur’s thigh. 

The older man shifts, startling him, but Arthur just reclines a little more, looking up at John. 

“Christ,” John whispers, glad his face is covered and Arthur can’t see his cheek burning red. 

He curls his fingers behind Arthur’s waistband and the older man helpfully lifts his hips so John can tug his boxers down and off. 

He’s staring.

He knows he’s staring.

Arthur snorts quietly and wraps a hand around himself and fuck Arthur’s hand are bigger than his and his cock still looks impossibly thick in the older man’s hold. 

John swallows weakly and lets himself fall to the side, moving closer to Arthur, leaning on the pillows. 

The coarse hair on Arthur’s thighs brushes against his hand as he reaches for the older man’s cock and it’s such a real sensation in the midst of this dream-like scenario that it throws him for a second. 

“You surprised or pleased?” Arthur asks as he lets John take hold on him, watches as the younger man shifts his hand and gets a feel for him. 

John squeezes his cock, rubs his thumb over the head. 

“Both.”

“Thought ‘bout me?”

John presses his lips together, looks over at the chat to stall. 

‘Suck him off’ John reads and furrows his brow at the camera. 

“I ain’t showin’ my face.”

‘Through the fabric, then’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the cliffhanger... kinda


	3. Chapter 3

John blinks in surprise then squirms, having to shift his hips as his cock twitches in the crook of his thigh and hip, precome dribbling onto his boxers. 

He sees Arthur’s head swing between him and the chat, trying to see what got that response out of John. 

“What?” Arthur asks and nudges his hips up into John’s fist lightly. 

John moves his other hand up to his face, glancing between the chat and Arthur. 

Two layers, worn-soft cotton. 

John swallows hard and tugs his boxers back up to keep himself from making a mess of his sheets. 

“You alright with my mouth?” John whispers, looking up at Arthur through the strands of hair hanging at his temple. 

Arthur raises a brow at him in a familiar way and John flusters. 

God, _he’s_ normally in control on his streams, Arthur’s gone and turned everything on its head. 

“That what they want?” Arthur nods towards the computer, “Or you?”

“... Both,” John mutters and squeezes Arthur’s cock, barely able to meet Arthur’s eyes. 

The older man studies him silently for a moment. 

“Go for it,” Arthur says after a moment. 

\--

Arthur stops caring about the chat, he doesn’t mean to, really, it’s just that John’s moved them closer to the laptop and there’s spit dripping down his cock, the bandana between him and the heat of John’s mouth completely drenched and John’s just got this look in his eyes. 

This hazy, needy, desperation as he’s sucking Arthur’s cock through the cloth. 

The computer speakers sound out chimes with comments that Arthur really doesn’t want to tear his eyes away for but he does cause he’s worried John might stop looking like this if he doesn’t. 

“‘Where you gonna come Crane? In his mouth? On his face?’” Arthur reads aloud from a tip, slowly, as he moves his hand to John’s waist. 

The younger man startles and blinks up at him, pulling off reluctantly, spit stringing from the wet spot on the bandana to Arthur’s cockhead. 

Arthur squeezes John’s waist, moves his hand further down to John’s ass, squeezes through the younger man’s underwear. 

John’s inhale is stuttering, he turns his face into his shoulder and closes his eyes tightly. 

Presses back into Arthur's touch. 

“There a way to poll them?” Arthur asks, slowly rubbing and gripping at the thin flesh of John’s ass. 

“Just… Ask ‘em a question, watch the replies,” John whispers. 

“Hm.”

John lowers his forehead to Arthur’s hip, his blood rushing in his ears. 

“Where y’all wanna see him marked up?” Arthur asks, tearing his eyes away from the sliver of a furiously red cheek peeking over John’s bandana.

A weak noise slips out of John. 

Arthur’s hand moves to rub soothingly up and down his spine and John tunes everything out, focusing on trying to lower his heartrate. 

“Face, ass, chest,” Arthur reads out, each word slow and savored. 

“Oh, Lord,” Arthur huffs, quietly laughs, “You got some ‘creative thinkers’ in here, _Rip.”_

John’s face is gently nudged up. 

He looks up at Arthur, shivering when their eyes meet. 

“What do _you_ want?” Arthur asks lowly. 

“Anything,” John says, too quickly, too desperately. 

Arthur’s brows rise in shock at the earnest answer, the undercurrent of worry. 

Arthur frowns at him, barely, you can hardly tell with the bandana in the way but John sees it, in the particular wrinkles that become more pronounced, the narrowing of Arthur’s eyes. 

“Stomach,” Arthur says decisively, much to John’s confusion until the younger man is lifted up and bullied into Arthur’s lap.

Arthur’s chest is warm against his back, the older man’s chin digging into his shoulder. 

“Pull up your shirt,” Arthur says, then murmurs, too quiet for the mic to pick up, “You alright?”

John nods, leans forward and yanks the shirt off over his head, carelessly flinging it to the side. 

Arthur snorts behind him then pulls him back, one hand pressing on John’s sternum. 

John focuses on the mirrored image of them on the screen, the picture they make, Arthur’s broad shoulders dwarfing him, the obvious wet spot on his underwear, Arthur’s hand on his cock between John’s thighs. 

“Fuck,” John whimpers and looks down, sees Arthur’s hand moving over himself, grip tight and pace easy. 

He feels like he’s on fire, his gut burning, cock aching as it jerks, leaks. 

Arthur’s breathing is heavy, so close to his ear, rustling his hair. 

John’s hips rock helplessly, eyes glued to the way the older man is handling himself. 

“Which one you like more, Darlin’?” Arthur asks and it takes far too long for John to register that Arthur’s talking to him. 

That _he’s_ the ‘darling’. 

“... What?” John asks shakily, moving his hands down to grip his own thighs. 

“Bein’ watched, or watchin’?” Arthur clarifies, twists his hand towards the end of his cock and milks out a thick bead of precome, smears it back down to the base with two fingers. 

John’s thoughts _buzz,_ incoherent and overwhelming. 

Arthur asks him something else but he doesn’t process it, just whimpers and squirms, digging his toes under Arthur’s calves. 

Arthur groans against his neck, the sound vibrating through John, down his spine like a pulse of heat as he feels Arthur’s come hit his stomach, start to drip down, only to be replaced by another streak and another. 

He watches the come run down, makes a strangled sound as he feels it dribble down over his waistband and seep into the fabric over his bulge. 

John whimpers sharply and turns, a bit violently, startling Arthur, who moves his hands to John’s hips to keep the younger man from falling off of him. 

John presses his face into the side of his neck as his toes curl and his legs flex, cock spilling in his underwear, Arthur’s come marking him just _too fucking much._

“Holy shit,” Arthur whispers, groans as his cock twitches, spent. 

John whines weakly, muffled by the bandana being flush to Arthur’s skin. 

John hears chiming, distantly, Arthur talking, distantly, as he’s ever-so-gently moved and settled on the bed. 

Arthur’s laughter, his voice, low and cocky and promising but he can’t understand a word the older man’s saying. 

The bed shifts as Arthur gets off and John takes in a shaky breath, turning his face into the pillow. 

The high leaves him floaty, but there’s a kind of dissatisfaction, lurking deep in his chest and tainting his enjoyment. 

He turns on his back and opens his eyes to see Arthur walking out of the room, looks over to see his laptop, webcam disconnected. 

John takes a deep breath and lets his head fall back, focusing on the feeling of his chest rising and falling and not the feeling of Arthur’s come mixed with his and cooling rapidly on his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey," Arthur says from the doorway and John tenses lightly, surfacing from the twilight state of almost-asleep. 

He lifts his head just enough to look at the older man. 

"... You okay?" Arthur asks after a moment of hesitation.

"Fine… Just tired now, y'know?" John says nervously. 

"Alright…" Arthur frowns slightly and John can tell the older man is conflicted but he couldn't even begin to guess exactly what about.

There's a stretch of silence between them before Arthur shifts, starts to withdraw. 

"Shower's free."

"Thanks," John says quietly. 

\--

"So…" Arthur idles, dishing up a plate of baked lasagna for John, then holding it out to the younger man. 

"Do you want me to move the money for bills? Or just split it?" 

Arthur's already turned back toward the stove but John watches the crinkles form in Arthur's shirt as the older man tenses. 

Shoulders tight. 

"It… Goes through pretty quick," John says slowly, gripping the edges of the plate tightly enough that he worries he might crack it. 

"Just… Move your half of rent."

"What?" John's nose wrinkles and he sets down the plate to grab a glass from the higher shelf. 

"Just move what you'd normally pay."

"What about your take?"

"I don't need it."

"But it's yours."

"John," Arthur says firmly.

A very 'this is the end of this argument' tone he’d learned from Dutch.

John frowns, a deep discomfort settling in his gut. 

\--

He moves Arthur's half and his share of rent. 

\-- 

Arthur doesn't mention it, and John figures one of two scenarios are possible. 

Either Arthur saw it, and changed his mind that he did want it, or…

Arthur hasn't seen it.

And John might get the brutal consequence of defying Arthur.

_Disappointment_.

… But Arthur doesn’t say anything. 

For weeks. 

What _does_ happen is quite possibly the farthest possibility from what John had expected. 

Arthur gets _touchy_. 

Like their little show broke the dam holding back an instinct in Arthur, a drive to be _physical_. 

John doesn’t mind it, actually loves it, it’s just such a one-eighty from Arthur’s usually brief, infrequent shows of physical affection. 

And Arthur barely acknowledged it, just changed everything without mentioning it.

He set the table with their places catty-corner to each other, moved the extra blankets and cushions to John’s side of the couch so the younger man was forced to sit in the middle. 

Arthur would move casually, while speaking normally, he’d sling an arm around John, or pull the younger man’s feet into his lap, come up close behind him and lean over his shoulder with his broad chest radiating warmth so close to John’s back. 

And John has to find excuses to stay with his crotch facing the counter, willingly cooking and washing dishes longer just to hide the bulge in his sweats ‘cause all he can think about is Arthur’s cock in his mouth and Arthur’s come marking him up. 

John presses his lips together hard at the thought, as Arthur’s fingers dig into his shoulder, in the tender space behind his collarbone. 

This exact position has happened at least a dozen times in the last week and all John wants to do is grind back against the older man and beg Arthur to fuck him then and there, bruise his hips on the counter’s edge, make him cream his pants again like a dumb fucking kid. 

“Website’s down for maintenance, during my usual time, so I’ve put up a note there won’t be a show this week,” John says slowly as he fidgets with the spatula, “In case you were willin’ to join again.”

“Oh,” Arthur says quietly, leans away slightly and John wonders if bringing it up was a bad idea. 

Then Arthur’s hand slides down his bare shoulder, caresses his upper arm, squeezes gently, just above his elbow. 

“That’s fine,” Arthur murmurs, soft and intimate and fuck almighty John’s not gonna be able to take this much longer. 

“If-If that’s… Alright, with you,” John says haltingly, struggling to force the words past the lump in his throat, “Or I can reschedule it instead?”

“Nah… Take the break, we ain’t gon’ hurt for it.”

“Alright,” John manages, a bit strangled. 

Arthur hesitates, behind him, John feels it, the uncertainty, the self-doubt from the older man. 

Arthur squeezes again, then pulls away.

\--

John starts to worry after an hour passes, a hour longer than Arthur typically takes to do an errand run. 

He hadn’t mentioned anything special, just the usual, groceries, gas… 

John lifts up from laying on his back, sprawled on the couch and stares at the garage door for a solid minute, like he could will Arthur to suddenly appear, open it, be home, safe. 

\--

Arthur comes home _two hours_ later than usual and John tries not to seem worried. 

The older man comes in, arms full of paper bags, just the same as always. 

“S’there more?” John asks, nodding towards the garage as he trails after Arthur into the kitchen. 

“Somethin’ on the front seat for you.”

John wrinkles his nose in confusion, mouthing ‘for me?’ as he goes to Arthur’s truck and peers in the window. 

There’s a bag on the passenger seat. 

A plain brown paper bag, kinda like the ones from the store, unbranded… 

But there are handles, tied closed with a ribbon. 

John yanks open the door and grabs the bag, somewhat surprised by the weight of it. 

He puts his other hand under the bag, not fully trusting the strength of the handles, and bumps the door closed, rushing back into the house and into the kitchen. 

“What is it?” He asks quickly, glancing at Arthur putting away groceries. 

“Open- Actually…” Arthur hums in consideration, “Maybe you should wait until your birthday.”

“That’s like ten hours, Arthur,” John grumbles but sets the bag on the counter and looks at Arthur for the older man to decide. 

“... That website back up?” Arthur asks quietly. 

“Huh?”

John watches Arthur lick his lips nervously then the older man nods at the bag. 

“Open it.”

“You sure?”

“You- John, _open it._ ”

John blinks in surprise at the commanding tone then starts on untying the ribbon, dumping the bag out on the counter. 

There are two boxes, wrapped in tissue paper.

John digs his thumbs under the tape and rips clean through it. 

His heart stops, he swears on his life, his heart stops.

“Holy shit,” John whispers. 

Arthur doesn’t respond, just continues to sort and put things away. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” John says and rips open the second box’s wrapping, “Arthur!”

“Yeah?”

John turns around sharply to stare at the older man. 

“Wh- Where did you?”

“Couple towns over, no one who’d recognize me,” Arthur says quietly. 

John blinks and looks back at the two packaged sex toys, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Arthur got him these for his birthday.

“You mentioned… The way you said it, was like you were interested in havin’ somethin’ but not interested in bein’ seen buyin’ one, so…” Arthur trails off, sounding hesitant. 

“Do you- Have you used shit like this before?” John asks, gesturing at the dildo, eyes drifting to the smaller box, a little silver vibrator. 

Arthur makes a small, affirmative noise. 

“Christ,” John whispers, picking up both boxes, his cheeks burning. 

“You alright?” Arthur asks slowly.

“Yeah… Just… Uh,” John shrugs lopsidedly, “Nervous? I guess?”

“D’you want me to… Help?”

John lifts his gaze up to Arthur’s, then looks towards his room. 

“Yeah.”

\--

John goes through the same kinda routine he normally does for getting ready. 

Except he doesn’t get out his laptop, or set up a stream, or cover his face. 

He just sits on his bed, hair damp, door wide open.

The toys out of their boxes and freshly cleaned, sitting next to his favorite lube. 

John picks up the vibrator and fucks around with the settings, cock twitching at the thought of teasing himself with it, or being teased. 

But he doesn’t try anything, sets it back down. 

Waits for Arthur. 

\--

Arthur’s bandana is around his neck, not his face and he raises a brow at John when he walks in. 

“Can… Can you show me,” John swallows hard and waves loosely towards his laptop, where it sits, closed, on his desk, “Not live… At least not the first time?”

Arthur visibly hesitates, chews on that request. 

It takes the _excuse_ out of it. 

The ability to write their whole thing off as ‘for money’. 

“Yeah,” Arthur says after a minute, “Yeah, we can do that.”

“What should I-?” John makes a small sound of indecision, frustration. 

He knows, obviously, how these things are normally used, and how in _theory_ he should go about it. 

But he’s nervous, and Arthur’s _done this_ before, apparently. 

“Calm down, first,” Arthur says, sounding a bit amused, “‘Specially if you ain’t performin’, there’s no pressure here, Johnny.”

John huffs softly at the teasing tone, then shifts to one side of the bed, glancing up at Arthur, then down at the open space next to him in obvious invitation. 

Arthur comes closer and John realizes the older man’s brought a towel this time, when he tosses it next to the toys. 

“What you ‘should’ do depends on what you wanna do,” Arthur murmurs, crawls onto the bed and settles himself comfortably against John’s headboard, slinging his arm behind John’s back, fingers ghosting, barely resting on John’s waist. 

“You said you’d used this kinda shit.”

“Mm-hm.”

“So you should have some kinda clue as to a good way to go about this?”

Arthur snorts quietly and moves his hand to move firmly grip John’s waist, rubbing his fingers soothingly, digging them into the bit of tender give at John’s hip. 

“You really need to _calm down_ , John,” Arthur sighs quietly then looks up at him from where’s he reclining on the pillows, eyes flicking back and forth leisurely. 

Studying John. 

“C’mere,” Arthur tugs him off-balance then catches him quickly, so he’s being held up, leaning over Arthur. 

John shuffles to readjust his weight, his knees pressing up against Arthur’s side. 

The older man guides him closer, until his options are lose his balance or straddle Arthur’s hips. 

So he chooses the latter and blinks down at the older man, heart racing. 

“Calm down,” Arthur repeats, and pulls John closer, pressing his lips to the younger man’s jaw. 

“Arth-“

“Shh.”

John presses his lips together and bows his head, his cheek brushing Arthur’s as he closes his eyes, focuses on the older man. 

Arthur’s hand moves down to his ass, kneading his upper thigh and dragging his fingers back up to John’s hip. 

“Alright?” Arthur whispers, following a light kiss under John’s ear. 

John barely manages a nod, moving his hands to grip Arthur’s shoulders. 

He hears the snap of his lube being opened, then Arthur’s other hand is slipping under his boxers, smearing the lube over his asshole. 

John inhales sharply, presses his face into Arthur’s neck as the older man slowly starts to work him open, just a fingertip, finger, two, three. 

John whines quietly, smothers his mouth with one hand and hides his face under Arthur’s jaw. 

“Still good?” 

“Yeah, yeah, _please_?”

“Please what?”

“... Please, sir?”

Arthur laughs softly, chest shaking under John and embarrassment spikes in the younger man. 

“I meant literally ‘what’, Darlin’,” Arthur explains gently, “What d’you need?”

It’s excruciating, how soft Arthur is being with him. 

“Fuck me,” John says, waits a few seconds, “With that toy.”


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur’s exhale is shaky and John knows the older man felt the full force of those first two words. 

Arthur’s fingers slide out of him slowly and the older man sits them both up. 

“Nah, this is for you,” Arthur mutters, “Scoot back.”

John’s brows furrow in confusion but he shuffles back.

“Take those off,” Arthur points at John’s boxers and grabs the dildo, bringing it between them and looking over John critically, “How d’you normally finger yourself?”

“What?” John asks, voice thin with shock at the filth coming outta Arthur’s mouth, not for an audience, just for him, but he squirms out of the boxers, sits awkwardly on his heels, cock heavy between his thighs.

“What position, I mean,” Arthur twists the dildo around and holds the base out to John. 

Who takes it slowly. 

“Uh… Depends.”

“On?”

“What I’m imaginin’.”

Arthur raises a brow at him for a moment then gestures widely at the rest of the bed. 

“Pick somethin’.”

“Fuck,” John mutters under his breath and his toes curl. 

He wants to ask Arthur for some ideas, how would the older man do it?

He ain’t that brave. 

John crawls to lay next to Arthur, avoiding the older man’s gaze as he shoves a pillow under his lower back and lets his legs butterfly open. 

“Shit,” Arthur huffs, sounding amused again, “Forget how bendy you are sometimes.”

John squirms and curls into himself slightly, fidgeting with the dildo. 

“Good thing, John,” Arthur whispers, “It’ll help.”

“What should I do now?”

“... Think you can guess.”

“Art, please?” John whispers, closing his eyes. 

“... Go slow, make sure you’re open ‘nough, don’t rush it.”

John shifts nervously then wraps one arm under his knee, pulling his leg to his chest, reaching with the other to press the head of the fake cock against his hole. 

It’s an amazingly different feeling than fingers, blunt and broad and firm. 

He presses his lips together and slowly grinds it through the lube leaking out of him, then presses it in, ever so slightly, legs tensing. 

John breathes out shakily, face crumpled, and peeks up at Arthur, who’s watching between the younger man’s legs. 

“Arthur.”

“Hm?”

“S’a lot.”

“Too much?” Arthur asks, sounding genuinely worried, leaning a bit closer. 

“I- I don’t know…” John whispers. 

“Does it hurt?”

“... No.”

“You wanna keep goin’?”

“I don’t…” John swallows and adjusts his grip on the toy, “Y’know how it’s harder to stitch yourself up ‘cause you’re anticipatin’ it?”

“Yeah… Yeah,” Arthur inhales sharply, “Okay, I get it.”

The older man moves to kneel in front of John’s hips, gently nudging the younger man’s legs into bending up and taking control of the base of the fake cock. 

Pushing in.

John makes a small, uncontrolled noise and crosses his arms over his face, cock twitching hard, drooling pre-come onto his belly as Arthur seats the toy in him. 

"Fuck," John whispers, biting the inside of his cheek and slowly giving in to the urge to rock his hips, drive the toy deeper. 

Arthur hushes him, grabs his hip and stills him, easing the toy out then slowly back in.

John gasps, a strangled, whimpering sound, as Arthur changes the angle and he clenches the sheets into his fists.

Having his eyes closed is… Almost worse, because without proof of reality, he's free to imagine that it's Arthur's cock inside of him. 

Arthur, fucking him.

He whines quietly as Arthur starts to move faster, his breathing escalating, hips grinding back into the stimulation.

"Arthur," John whimpers and moves down to grip the base of his cock, lightly stroke himself, “Christ, _please.”_

“Shh, just enjoy it, John,” Arthur murmurs, “Slow down.”

“I can’t- I-”

John gasps sharply when Arthur’s hand closes over his, stills his, stops him from playing with himself. 

“Slow _down_ ,” Arthur says, barely above a whisper but it’s firm. 

A command. 

John curses under his breath and pulls his hand away to grip the sheets again, squirming, back arching as Arthur slowly pushes the toy in deeper, then pauses. 

John tries to stay calm, lasts all of fifteen seconds before whining weakly and rocking his hips onto the fake cock. 

“Art,” John pleads.

“Bring your hand down here.”

“Fuck,” John whispers and moves his hand down, lets Arthur guide it, wrap it around the base of the toy, “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

“Go on.”

John takes a shaky breath in and sits up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, slowly opening his eyes to look at Arthur. 

Who’s watching him closely, totally, eyes slowly moving up and down John’s body, from face to cock to John’s fingers gripping the silicone so tight they’re pale and trembling. 

“Go on, John,” Arthur says, gentler this time. 

John starts to slide the toy out and has to pause, clenching around it, pressing his lips together hard and wincing as his cock jerks, leaks. 

He doesn’t pull it all the way out, just tilts it to get that good angle and pushes it back in, face scrunching up before he finds the right spot. 

Lips parting, eyes closing, breath catching. 

“You like it?” Arthur murmurs, shifts closer, hand settling on the inside of John’s knee. 

“Fuckin’,” John mutters and squirms, pressing his leg up into Arthur’s touch, “God, _yeah_ , ain’t that obvious?”

Arthur huffs a small laugh and squeezes his knee. 

“Wanna try the other one?”

“... I’m real close,” John whispers hesitantly. 

“Oh,” Arthur says quietly, sounding a bit surprised. 

John cringes a bit, curling in on himself, shifting to press his wrist to the base of his cock. 

“How close?”

“Pretty… Pretty close,” John says. 

He doesn’t exactly intend for it to come out apologetic. 

It’s just that Arthur sounds… Disappointed, and for him to come so quickly, last time, this time. 

John swallows and drops his gaze to his cock, the flushed head, the trail of pre-come, dripping down his abdomen. 

“You wanna?”

“What?”

“You wanna come?” Arthur asks slowly, “Now, I mean.”

“I… Yeah?” John whispers. 

“Or do you want me to help you… Last, a lil longer?”

John lets out a shaky sound and nods quickly. 

Arthur hums quietly and nudges John’s hand away, pulls John’s legs so they’re outstretched on either side of him, keeping the toy deep in John. 

“Lay back.”

“What’re you gon’ do?” John murmurs, but lays back nonetheless, rubbing his face lightly, staring up at the ceiling. 

His cheeks are hot, not flushed, but _burning_ with the combination of want and embarrassment. 

“You ever try n’keep yourself on that edge?” Arthur asks and John startles when the older man’s rough fingertips land on the sensitive skin in the crook of his hip. 

“... No, not really.”

“Gonna get you real close,” Arthur murmurs, “And stop. Maybe do it a couple times.”

John takes a deep breath and covers his eyes, nodding slowly. 

“S’okay, right?” Arthur asks quietly, “We don’t have to.”

“Please?” John whispers, “Please, fuck- I-”

_‘I want anything from you.’_

_‘I wanna be good for you.’_

Even in John’s head those sound a bit too needy so he just nods again. 

Arthur’s fingertips move to his cock and John’s toes curl, abs clench at the slow, firm stroking. 

It’s a bit like torture, a bit like Arthur’s got all the time in the world to tease John. 

John tries to stay calm as the minutes tick by, but his chest feels smaller and smaller, gut burning, balls drawing up as he gets so close he doesn’t think Arthur could pull off fast enough. 

Whining, quietly, trying to warn the older man. 

Arthur doesn’t pull his hand _away_ , like John was expecting, but moves it down, wraps forefinger and thumb around the base of John’s cock and _grips_. 

John gasps and his hips jerk involuntarily, a strangled, confused sound escaping him. 

Arthur hushes him, and his other hand comes up, caresses up John’s side, and suddenly the older man’s warmth is above him and John looks up, eyes a bit teary. 

“Okay?” Arthur asks quietly. 

John’s throat catches but no words come out. 

He nods, barely, instead. 

Arthur studies him, looking very serious and John doesn’t really get it, at first, then he realizes that Arthur is worried. 

“M’okay,” John manages hoarsely, then mutters, “Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Trying to ease the tension a bit. 

It works, drawing a small laugh from Arthur. 

Then the older man leans down and presses their lips together. 

John closes his eyes tight and tries to reciprocate, moves his hands up and tangles his fingers in Arthur’s hair. 

Whines quietly against the older man’s mouth when Arthur’s hand starts stroking his cock again. 

\--

Six times. 

Six times Arthur’s pulled him to the edge and didn't let him fall over. 

John’s outright crying now, tears flooding his lashes and running down his temples, tickling his face. 

And every time Arthur asks if he’s okay, and each time it gets a little easier to say yes, yeah, he’s okay. 

And then slowly devolve into begging as Arthur gets him on that high again. 

His belly is sore, from flexing and clenching so tight, hips twitching and spine arcing. 

“Please,” John whimpers but knows at this point it doesn’t seem to matter to Arthur how much he begs, the older man has a plan and is sticking to it. 

Arthur nudges his legs open again and John gasps when he understands. 

Braces himself, and is glad when Arthur pours some more lube, over John’s cock, balls, lets it drip down and smears it around John’s hole. 

Starts fucking it in and out of John in tandem with stroking the younger man’s cock. 

“Arthur,” John gasps, “God, fuck me, please, _please_. Want it. Want you.”

“Maybe,” Arthur says quietly and John comes. 

He doesn’t mean to, didn’t even think he was that close, thought it would take another minute or so at least. 

He sobs and his hand shoots down, stilling Arthur’s and squeezing, as he fucks up into their combined grip and pulses come over their fingers. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is no longer in my control lmao this was supposed to be a ONE SHOT MAYBE A TWO CHAPTER LIL THING GOD ALMIGHTY

  
John _pants_ as his body quakes with how hard he comes. 

Making small, weak sounds and moaning brokenly as his heels dig into the bed and his hand flexes, squeezing Arthur's hand around himself, slowly dragging their hands up to ease out the last few dribbles of come. 

“Fuck,” John gasps and has to pull away, covers his face with his arms. 

Arthur’s thumb brushes over the head of his cock, John’s leg twitches hard. 

The older man sits back and John feels so worn out, the exhaustion dropping into him all at once. 

“Christ, Arthur,” John says breathily and lowers his arms to stare at the ceiling for a few seconds. 

When Arthur doesn’t respond John lifts his head.

Arthur’s got a fist clenched in the bedsheets, face tense. 

John drops his gaze to the bulge of Arthur’s cock and swallows, throat sticky and aching with indecision. 

Arthur agreed to help him off-camera with the toys, but there was never agreement to any by-product of pleasure being reciprocated. 

“Can I blow you?” John asks hoarsely, “Proper this time?”

Arthur’s eyes shutter, shiver closed against the older man’s will. 

“Please?” John whispers.

Arthur looks at him finally, looks at his cock and his face and un-tenses himself purposefully, rolling his neck. 

“Yeah?” Arthur asks, voice so deep it resonates through John’s belly with an overstimulated burn, “You want to?”

“Fuckin’- _Yeah,_ Art, do I gotta beg?”

John sees the idea process in those damned baby-blue eyes and anxiously shifts his legs, stretching them out and letting them relax. 

“You wanna?” Arthur asks again, voice a bit breathier. 

Heady, John can hear it, the same kind of high that Arthur gets being right, winning a game, a fight, winning at anything, really. 

Being in control, being _certain._

"Please?" John whispers, "Wanna taste you. Wanna have you fuck my mouth."

Arthur makes a low, stifled sound at that.

Breathes, deeply, for a moment. 

"You good like this?"

"Like this?" John asks, gesturing to himself laying down. 

"Yeah, s'it too much?"

"God, _no,"_ John says quickly.

Arthur shuffles forward, straddles John's upper chest, helps the younger man sit up slightly so he's at a good angle. 

Arthur pulls his cock out and John makes an embarrassingly wanton sound. 

Brings his hands up and squeezes the back of Arthur's thighs, not quite brave enough to grab the older man's ass outright. 

Arthur steadies himself on the headboard with one hand, guides his cock into John's mouth with the other. 

John readily opens his mouth, shields his teeth and looks up at Arthur through his lashes.

"... Damn," Arthur whispers and turns his face into his arm. 

John makes a questioning sound, lightly pressing his tongue up against Arthur's cock. 

"You… You look good," Arthur mutters, just a bit reluctant, uncovers his face and looks down again. 

John quirks a brow at him in tired amusement then shifts, bobbing his head, sliding his fingertips up to pull on Arthur's ass.

"What?" Arthur asks quietly.

John closes his eyes and tugs again, trying to be more clear in what he wants Arthur to do.

“ _Oh,”_ Arthur exhales shakily and rolls his hips, fucking into John's mouth. 

John closes his eyes tighter and opens further, spit escaping the corners of his mouth as Arthur's cock slides over his tongue, teases into his throat. 

John squirms, absolutely spent and somehow still burning with want. 

He opens his eyes to look up at Arthur and the older man's cock jerks in his mouth when their eyes meet.

Arthur makes a shaky sound and looks away, to John's bedside table, reaches over and grabs John's phone.

John stares up at him with wide eyes, spit trailing between his red, shiny lips and Arthur's cock when the older man pulls back to let him talk. 

"Can I…?" Arthur trails off for a moment, thinking too hard.

"Yes," John says quickly.

"You don't even-"

"Pictures," John says hoarsely, "And _yes,_ please?"

"Jesus, John," Arthur whispers and opens John's phone.

Messes with the camera until he's got it right.

"You sure?" 

"Yeah," John whispers, "Fuck, _please,_ Arthur?"

Arthur moves a hand down to squeeze the base of his own cock, feeling a little too close.

Shuffles forward again, frames the camera and rests the head of his cock on John's lower lip.

John stills, as the picture is taken, looking into the lens. 

Arthur swallows hard at the photo that flashes by, before being saved in the gallery.

He inches his cock in, taking pictures at intervals, every time John's eyes do this _thing_ like he can't believe he's living this moment. 

Like he's grateful and lucky to have Arthur fuck his mouth.

It makes Arthur's head feel a bit big.

He watches John closely, as the younger's eyes water, Arthur's cock dipping into his throat.

Takes a few more pictures, then pulls back, gripping his own cock similarly to how he'd handled John's, trying to stave off the inevitable.

"Close?" John asks, tone almost teasing. 

Arthur huffs and presses his cockhead to John's lips again, making a small noise as he milks out a few drops of pre-come.

John makes a gut punch sound and closes his eyes, cock twitching helplessly on his thigh. 

Arthur takes another picture. 

"S'okay if… For the picture… If I-?"

"What?" John whispers, peeking open one eye. 

"On your face," Arthur says thickly, "It okay if I come on your face?"

 _"Oh,"_ John says breathily then squirms, legs bending and shifting behind Arthur as he nods and lightly pulls on the older man's ass, "Yeah… _Fuck."_

Arthur rocks his hips, pressing his cock into John's mouth and biting down on a groan as John's tongue flicks around under the flare of his cockhead. 

He takes a few more pictures, pulled back with his abdomen in view, up close, when he's seated, stilled, deep in John's throat. 

After he pulls out, his cock not even in frame, just John's fucked out expression, teary eyes.

Arthur switches to video, gets himself stroking his cock in frame. 

"Close your eyes," Arthur murmurs. 

John meets his gaze one last time then does as instructed, closing his eyes tight. 

"There y'go, Johnny," Arthur whispers, "Shit… 'M close."

"Do it," John says quietly, eager under the guise of teasing, "Mark me up, Art."

Arthur bites down on a groan and angles the camera out wider as he comes, pulses seed onto John's face, streaking up his cheek, over his mouth, dripping off his chin and running down his neck. 

Arthur breathes heavy, switches back to camera and gets a few shots of the last couple drops spilling out of himself onto John's lips. 

"Look at me," Arthur says hoarsely, can barely meet John's eyes as the younger looks up at him, flushed face covered in Arthur's come. 

Arthur makes a weak sound and takes a few more pictures. 

John looks right into the lens as he swipes two fingers through the come and pushes them into his mouth, eyes heavy. 

"Fuck," Arthur says and sits back on John's chest, setting the phone down and staring at the younger. 

John hesitates, wonders if he should continue, or if Arthur thought that was only for the picture.

Not really _for_ the older man. 

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth a bit awkwardly and Arthur moves into action, crawling off of him, off of the bed. 

John props himself up with a small frown, a bit of worry in the pit of his stomach. 

"Arthur?" John asks, and his voice is raw from the welcomed abuse to his throat. 

"Hold on, hold on," Arthur calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room. 

John shifts uncomfortably, clenching around the dildo with come dripping down his neck. 

Arthur comes back after a few minutes of agonizing anxiety, expression closed off, holding a dampened washcloth. 

He crawls onto the bed and kneels next to John. 

Lifting the younger man's chin and cleaning off his face. 

"'M sorry," Arthur whispers. 

"What?" John frowns up at the older man, has to close his eyes when Arthur's wiping around his eye socket. 

"I… Got a bit carried away, just cause you do this whole thing, don't mean I can just treat you like a-"

"Art," John says quickly and grabs the older man's wrist, opening his eyes to meet Arthur's, "You know I like it, right?"

Arthur falls silent, watching him. 

"If I didn't like anythin' you wanted to do, I'd _tell you._ Christ, Arthur," John huffs and flops back down. 

Hears the older man swallow thickly above him. 

"Yeah, but you… You got this whole thing about coverin' your face n' all that, so these pictures, that was… I shouldn'tve-"

"Shut up, good God," John mutters, "You plannin' on leakin' 'em?"

"What? _No."_

"Yeah, they're just for you right?" John asks slowly. 

"... Yeah-I… They're on your phone."

"But you want them."

"... Yeah," Arthur says weakly. 

"S'fine, Arthur," John says gently. 

"... You wanna take a shower?" Arthur asks quietly, lifting the soiled rag, "Ain't doin' much good with this."

John huffs a laugh, shifts, presses his lips together. 

Reaching down between his legs and grabbing the base of the dildo. 

"I can just… Pull it out, right?" 

"Yeah, _yeah,_ just… Slow."

John does, holding back a whine and setting it on the towel. 

Moving his other hand to lightly stroke himself. 

"... Are you-?" Arthur asks hoarsely, "You think you could? Again?" 

"I don't know, honestly," John murmurs, "Feels like it."

Arthur stares at him for a moment then picks up his phone, open the gallery and goes back to the first picture, of his cock pillowed on John's lower lip. 

Turns the camera for John to see. 

"Ah, shit," John gasps and squeezes his cock lightly, eyes zigzagging over the screen. 

Arthur shifts to sit next to John, leaning over his own lap and flicking through the photos. 

John whimpers at the video, at seeing Arthur's point of view. 

"Arthur," John groans quietly, "Fuck, gonna-"

"Keep goin', then," Arthur whispers and changes to the next clip, hears his own voice, John egging him on. 

Watches John watch the video of his own face being covered in come. 

John trembles, legs twitching and curls up on himself, stroking over his cock and cupping his balls as they draw up, aching. 

"Fuck, fuck, oh my God," John bites out then whines, dropping his head as he comes a second time, a few weak pulses of seed dribbling down his cock. 

"Goddamn," Arthur says next to him and John almost laughs before whimpering, thighs cramping. 

He moves one arm to hug his legs and presses against his cock with the other, trying to catch his breath. 


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur’s hand on the side of his neck is startling. 

John tenses, slowly leans into the touch. 

“Y’alright?” Arthur asks gently. 

“Yeah,” John says weakly, “I’ll take a shower as soon I can feel my legs again.”

Arthur barks a laugh and squeezes his neck gently.. 

"You still goin' out on Tuesday?" 

John blinks, slumping back on his pillows, brain furiously trying to catch up with Arthur's change in topic.

"Uh… Yeah, pretty sure. You wanna come?"

"Nah, I don't wanna crash y'all's 'thing'," Arthur shrugs, "Got that day off though, pro'ly spend it working 'round the house."

\--

He guesses John's password first try, it's the same he uses for most everything, the name of the first horse he was allowed to call his, followed by his birthday in jumbled numbers.

Arthur huffs quietly and hesitates, faced with John's computer, unlocked, a mess of files on the desktop. 

He navigates to the cam site and sees that John's account is already logged in, a backlog of offline tip notifications blinking in the corner. 

"C'mon, man," Arthur mutters to himself, "You got this far."

This far being sitting on John's desk chair, bandana covering his face, dressed in a dirt-and-sweat covered t-shirt, ratty work jeans.

It's not John's usual time, so he's surprised when a decent crowd trickles in, expressing a mix of confusion, disappointment, or concern over 'Rip'.

"Now, y'all, he's fine. But he don't know I'm doin’ this," Arthur says soothingly, wrinkling his nose under the bandana, “Suppose he’ll find out eventually.”

Arthur leans back in the chair and idly starts to open his jeans. 

"Bit's changed, since last time," Arthur smiles, sly, eyes crinkling at the camera, "Got a surprise comin' for y'all."

He watches the speculation in chat, slowly pulling himself out, shoving his shirt up his chest. 

"Man, y’all shoulda seen him,” Arthur says roughly as he rubs the heel of his palm down his length, “Got him a couple toys, he took to them real well. Let me fuck him up, then fuck his mouth.”

Arthur glances at the chat watching a mix of jealousy and begging for more details flood in. 

He huffs a small laugh, a new kind of warmth pulsing in his gut as he grips himself.

“Even let me mark him up, come all over his face,” Arthur says, gritting his teeth and fucking lightly up into his fist. 

_‘The prophecy is true. Rip’s a cumslut.’_

Arthur’s brows furrow and he barks a small laugh. 

“What the hell?” Arthur mutters and stretches out a bit, “If he lets y’all see…”

Arthur whistles lowly, brushing his thumb over the pre-come beading out his slit. 

“The way he _looked_ , begged me to go deeper, to _use_ his mouth,” Arthur grits his teeth and rocks his hips up, “Oh.”

He sits up quickly and snatches his phone, going back through his texts with John to find the pictures. 

“Shit, I can’t show y’all, but…” Arthur swallows, looking at the picture of John looking into the camera, “He was pushin’ himself. Eyes waterin’, chokin’ just a bit. Cheeks got all pink, y’all know his eyes, but not his face, not his lips, and how _perfect_ they wrap ‘round a cock.”

Arthur glances at the chat as a few tip notifications sound. 

“Wrap around _my_ cock,” Arthur says, and it’s taunting, blatantly. 

He slouches back in the chair again and strokes himself off firmer, with a tighter grip, pre-come slicking the way. 

“Kinda wanna fuck him,” Arthur muses out loud, “Didn’t think we would at first, maybe just mess ‘round.”

_‘You should let him fuck you’_

Arthur shrugs, tilting his head in consideration. 

“Yeah… Maybe.”

_‘so jealous you get to touch that tight ass whenever you want’_

_‘Crane you gotta tap that’_

_‘I think he mentioned you before’_

“Hm?” Arthur frowns at the chat, “Before I walked in on him?”

_‘It was when we found out he was a virgin. he admitted it, then went on about wanting someone in particular to take it. his “hot, older, roommate” who’s “straight”’_

Arthur stares at the screen, reading the words over and over before laughing hard. 

“Shit,” Arthur chuckles, “Oh.”

A couple others confirm the story, claiming to remember that. 

“Christ, yeah, okay,” Arthur says shakily and grips himself tighter, stroking faster, “You know he came twice? From bein’ toyed _and_ after I marked up his face.”

There’s a mix of disbelief and exclamations of excitement. 

_‘Of course he can come more than once. Rip’s pretty special’_

“Yeah,” Arthur gasps, clenching his jaw as he comes, “ _Fuck_ , yeah, he is.”

\--

John brings him home a jumbo muffin and an iced coffee and Arthur starts feeling guilty. 

He smiles and thanks John and asks him about his outing, asks after, Abi and Sadie, Javier and Lenny.

Listens and eats and drinks and tries not to let the guilt turn to nausea.

\--

A couple nights later John crawls onto the couch and lays his head in Arthur’s lap. 

Arthur blinks down at him, gently setting his open hand on John’s head. 

“Hey… You alright?” 

“Mm, tired,” John murmurs and rubs his face against the soft flannel of Arthur’s pant leg. 

Arthur’d consciously held back, the last week or so, not being quite as affectionate. 

There’s gotta be a middle ground, between what they were, and what he wants them to be.

Maybe this is it.

Letting John come to him.

Arthur combs his fingers through John’s hair, it’s gotten so long, not-quite-wavy strands dipping past John’s collarbones. 

He sets down the remote and gathers all of John’s hair into his hands, lightly twisting it up to expose John’s neck, jaw. 

When he looks down the line of John’s body he can tell the younger man is tense. 

“That all?” Arthur prods gently. 

“You’re willin’... We can do another show, yeah?” John whispers. 

“If you want, just, y’know, let me know before?”

“What if I- If durin’- If we-”

“John,” Arthur says gently and moves his grip on John’s hair, pulling it down to force John into looking back at him, “Tell me.”

“I think they want us to fuck… Or, well, want you to fuck me,” John says hesitantly, avoiding Arthur’s eyes, “But, I dunno if I’m…”

“Do you not want to?” Arthur frowns and eases his grip, instead tugging on John’s shoulder to get the younger man on his back, “We don’t have to, John, I don’t care how much it pays, if you don’t want-”

“No,” John cuts in weakly, “I… I do. Just… Not yet.”

“Oh… Alright, that’s fine too,” Arthur says almost immediately, soothing and self-assured and John wonders how he does it.

How he’s so whole-hearted.

The whole thing is a gamble. 

Maybe if he doesn’t fuck Arthur now, they can keep doing this for a while.

Maybe if he doesn’t fuck Arthur now, he’ll never be able to.

“Tonight? Maybe just… What you got me?” John asks tentatively.

Arthur blinks down at him, looks up at their clock. 

“That’s a couple hours, yeah?” Arthur hums quietly, “We can do that.”

\--

John spends the next couple hours tidying, and washing up, and generally fretting over this. 

He steals a newer shirt of Arthur’s, one that hangs to his mid-thigh.

Doesn’t bother with underwear, rubs his hair with a towel as he fucks around with the settings, amends his bio to include ‘Crane’ since Arthur’s basically a staple of his channel now.

His door is nudged open and Arthur walks in, smelling of body wash and cigarettes, bare-chested, wearing just those low-slung flannel pants.

John aches, when he sees the dildo in Arthur’s hand.

He’d left it on the bathroom sink after washing it off. 

“You ever used one?” John blurts out, nodding at the dildo.

“One of-?” Arthur lifts it in surprise, “Oh… Yeah.”

“Jesus,” John mutters and squirms as he sets the laptop up, aims it at the bed, pulls his bandana up over his face and drops the towel next to the bed in case they need it. 

“Why?”

“Just- Just thought of… That.”

Arthur huffs quietly and shrugs. 

“S’not my favorite thing, but it can be nice.”

John lets out a small, disbelieving laugh and scoots over to make room. 

“Lube?” Arthur asks as he frowns at the nightstand, searching. 

“I… I already-”

_“Oh.”_

“S’just… I wanna… Like what you did to me, the first time? And that took a _while_ , I just-”

“It’s alright,” Arthur says, sounding amused, and puts the dildo down between them, “You ready?”

John studies Arthur’s blue eyes over the blue and white cotton bandana. 

Nods.


	8. Chapter 8

  
John blinks in silent surprise when Arthur picks up leading the show.

He fidgets with the hem of Arthur's shirt, feels just a bit shy. 

Next to Arthur, as his regulars greet Crane and him.

He wonders if it'll ever be possible to go back to a solo show. 

Arthur's saying something about the toys and the plan for tonight when his arm slings around John's waist, squeezes and teases the younger man's hip, fingers reaching towards John's cock through his shirt. 

And John wants to understand how Arthur keeps these versions of himself so very separate. 

Arthur chats with the viewers as he rubs his fingertips up the length of John's cock through the shirt, lingering under the head. 

John presses his lips together to hold in a whine as he turns and presses his face into Arthur's neck, reaching down to squeeze Arthur's forearm. 

"Already, Rip?" Arthur teases softly. 

"Shut up," John mumbles and rubs at his heated face before lifting it enough to look at chat. 

It's a mix of mild chatter and some speculation over how quickly 'Rip' would come from being fucked. 

John squirms and squeezes Arthur's arm tighter. 

"A- Crane-" John whispers desperately. 

Feels Arthur shift to look down at him. 

"Go 'head and pick how you wanna…" Arthur trails off, moving his hand away to squeeze John's hip. 

John swallows and nods, glancing at the chat and he can read the anticipation from the frequency of messages alone. 

His brain feels a bit fuzzy, slow. 

He pulls away from Arthur and meets the older man's eyes.

Sees a swirling warmth and concern and love and it settles in him, heavy in his chest.

John drops his eyes quickly, pulls all the way back. 

There's no way he read that right, those emotions, for him? From Arthur?

Wishful thinking, he's tired, it's just the atmosphere. 

John hesitates, crawls forward to adjust the webcam and actually read the chat.

"Finally got a toy like y'all wanted," John says wryly, "Only took a whole 'walked in on' moment."

John moves back a bit, sitting on his heels.

Setting it next to himself, looking at Arthur. 

"On my back?" 

"Yeah," Arthur whispers, gesturing to the width of the bed, "Sideways, legs towards me."

John flops back on the mattress and spreads his legs, letting Arthur sit between them. 

He grabs the dildo and holds it out towards the webcam. 

"Ain't it nice? Crane got it for me."

Arthur's hands are warm and rough, sliding up his inner thighs, nudging his legs further apart. 

'pretty close to the real thing'

John squints at the message then blinks, looks at the dildo, at Arthur, swallows hard and looks back at the chat. 

Two fingers press against his hole and he flinches in surprise before settling.

"Jesus," Arthur mutters, "All worked up already cause you went and fucked yourself open, hm?"

John shivers at the tone, that touch of awe under a firm position at the helm of this moment. 

"Was thinkin' 'bout it," John murmurs, "How you worked me over."

"Yeah?" Arthur murmurs, amused and focused as he adds another finger, rubs inside of John, 

John lets out a shaky sound and scoots a bit to the side, angling himself and wrapping an arm under one leg, tucking his thigh to his chest, putting himself more on display for the camera. 

He meets Arthur’s eyes briefly then closes his own, pinching his lower lip between his teeth. 

Arthur crooks his fingers inside John and the younger man quietly gasps, hips rocking into the touch.

He turns his head to read the chat, trying to calm down a bit as Arthur plays with him. 

He’s already worked himself open, there’s no real reason for Arthur to be taking this much care but it’s excruciatingly tender. 

There’s a line of chatter going on of viewers debating whether they’d rather be in Rip’s place or Crane’s. 

John squirms as Arthur’s fingers slip out and the older man prods at him until he’s up on his knees. 

Arthur nods at the head of the mattress and presses down on John’s back. 

“Jesus,” John mutters and goes with the pressure until he’s on his elbows and knees, ass towards the camera. 

“Shh, you’ll like this,” Arthur murmurs and kneels next to John, shoving the shirt up so John’s back is bare, the fabric catching and pooling behind John’s shoulders, “When’d you take this one?”

“This afternoon,” John whispers and tenses as he feels the blunt end of the fake cock against his asshole.

“Ready?” Arthur asks quietly, his other hand lightly grazing up and down John’s spine. 

“Yes, yeah, c’mon,” John mutters and squirms, pressing back against the toy. 

He hasn’t messed with it at all since the first time. 

Arthur pushes it in slowly, incrementally sinking the toy in as his other hand strokes John's spine. 

"There you go," Arthur murmurs when John whines quietly, "Takin' it so well."

"Fuck," John whispers and reaches under himself to squeeze the base of his cock tightly.

“No, we haven’t, yet,” Arthur says and John lets out a breath at the stark reminder that Arthur’s doing this for the stream. 

John strokes himself with the barest grip, pressing his face into the sheets. 

“Yeah, he does,” Arthur says with a soft laugh and John squirms as the older man changes the angle of the toy, moving it just a bit faster.

“What?” John whispers. 

Arthur just hums softly, amused. 

John feels a small spark of irritation but it’s overwhelmed with heat in his gut like molten want when Arthur picks him up just a bit to adjust the angle, pushing the toy in deeper and quicker. 

Then Arthur leans down to press his lips to John’s bare shoulder blade and the younger inhales shakily. 

“Talkin’ all sorts of dirty things, Johnny,” Arthur whispers, “’Bout how you look like such a perfect, pretty little ass to wreck, and how well you’re takin’ it, and those needy little sounds you probably don’t even realize you’re makin’.”

“H-Fuck-” John whimpers and grips himself as his cock jerks, drips pre-come on the sheets, “Christ.”

Arthur presses another soft kiss to his back then straightens back up, returns to that steady rhythm, fucking the toy into John and John closes his eyes tight at the idea that bleeds across his mind. 

Of Arthur fucking him, just like this. 

He thinks about the comparison, how he hardly even realized until it was pointed out, how close in shape and size the toy is to Arthur’s cock. 

How Arthur could wait until John’s just as fucked up, just as on edge and needy and slip that toy out and slide himself in instead and John wouldn’t protest. 

If he even noticed. 

“Fuck, fuck- Gonna-” John says hurriedly and reaches back, scrambling to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

“Close, darlin’?” Arthur murmurs and stops moving the toy, rubs the back of John’s hip lightly, “Yeah, he’s pretty sensitive.”

“I hate you,” John says weakly then presses his face firmly into the mattress.

“No you don’t.”

\--

John groans shakily as Arthur’s hand leaves his cock, hugging his legs closer to his chest as the older man runs teasingly light touches over his inner thighs, pressing the toy in and pulling it out slowly. 

He’s not sure how long they’ve been going, and he’ll probably forget to check the logs later. 

Arthur’s cock is hard, pressed against the side of John’s ass through the flannels. 

John takes a moment to gather himself then looks up at Arthur kneeling next to him. 

Arthur’s gaze is locked on his face and John’s lungs burn. 

Hope… Or desire, or both, his thoughts ill-defined, vaguely fading in and out as Arthur takes him up and lets him sink back down. 

He digs his fingers into his thighs and studies Arthur’s blue eyes, glancing at the camera, whispering. 

“Ar-” John begs as a whisper, “Fuck- Please?”

“Please what?”

“Wanna come.”

“Go ‘head,” Arthur says teasingly, not changing his pace, “But don’t touch yourself.”

“I-I can’t…”

“You can,” Arthur says lowly, “You have before.”

John inhales shakily and squirms, closing his eyes again and clenching around the fake cock. 

“Please,” John says again, rocking his hips weakly.

“What do y’all think?” Arthur asks to the side and John knows he’s looking at the chat by the direction of his voice. 

He squirms harder and moves to grab Arthur’s free hand, fingers tangling with Arthur’s pre-come slicked ones. 

Arthur’s hand squeezes his in pulses, thumb rubbing over the back of John’s and the younger man feels his eyes stinging. 

“Here,” Arthur murmurs, “Sit up. On your knees.”

John lets the older man maneuver him until he’s kneeling, facing the camera, cock hanging heavy and dripping, the focal point of the stream. 

Arthur’s warmth blankets his back and John bites down on his inner cheek to keep himself from begging for more. 

Arthur brings both of John’s hands back and pins them in the middle of the younger’s back, his other hand grabbing the base of the toy. 

John opens his eyes to look at the display, Arthur, behind him, as the fake cock starts to fuck into him, each thrust full of intent, hitting that spot inside him, paced and hard. 

John’s watching the concentration on Arthur’s face when he starts to come, choking back a whine of the older man’s name and rocking himself back onto the toy. 

“There you go, baby boy,” Arthur murmurs, keeping the toy moving as he releases John’s hands and wraps his arm around the younger man’s waist before John can collapse forward. 

John moves to look at himself on the screen, his mirrored image, mirrored cock jerking in the air as come pulses and streaks onto the sheets, gasping and grabbing at Arthur’s arm. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't remember what i said would happen next but disregard it cause I'm just going ham and now have like 3 chapters extra between last chapter and the next scene i had planned im sorry this is a mess sbfjh

“Ar-” John starts to whisper before his mouth is covered over the bandana with a lube-slicked hand and he makes a weak sound of protest. 

“Got you- Hold on,” Arthur murmurs in his ear and maneuvers John to lay up against the headboard, sitting next to the younger, glancing at the laptop for only a moment as it dings before he turns his full attention to John, “You alright?”

John nods slowly and wipes the smear of lube off the top of his cheek with Arthur’s shirt then drops his hand in a loose fist next to his hip. 

“You sure?” Arthur whispers and shoves John’s hair back from his sweaty and flushed forehead. 

“You?” John murmurs and gestures at Arthur’s crotch then the laptop. 

He sees Arthur hesitate. 

“Okay with y’all if we sign-off a bit early?” Arthur asks turning his face to the screen as John makes another small noise of protest, “Think I made him come too hard.”

“I’m fine,” John mutters but doesn’t protest further, watching Arthur move over to the laptop and continue to talk to the chat. 

“No, he’s not,” Arthur murmurs and continues reading, “I don’t think he would.”

“We aren’t.”

“Thanks.”

“Soon, maybe, he ain’t ready.”

John flushes and squirms, clenching around the toy and looking down at the mess he made of himself and the sheets. 

“Nah, sorry, we’ll be back,” Arthur says and John looks up when the older man glances at him, “Maybe take a week off.”

John watches the older man for a second then flops back, covering his eyes with his forearm. 

He listens to Arthur closing down the stream, powering down his laptop and disconnecting everything before climbing off the bed and stashing it. 

John twitches when Arthur pulls his arm away from his face and looks down at him in concern, bandana gone. 

“Hey,” Arthur murmurs and uses one hand to lift John’s head slightly, untying the bandana with his other, “You sure you’re good?”

“Wasn’t lyin’ when I said I was tired,” John whispers and looks up at Arthur sleepily, “Sorry.”

Arthur’s hand pauses as he’s pulling it away, rubbing his rough thumb pad lightly over the crest of John’s cheekbone.

Following the curve of the dark circles under the younger man’s eyes. 

“Sleepin’ bad?”

“Lil’ bit,” John whispers and closes his eyes when Arthur’s thumb grazes his lower lashes. 

“You should’ve said before,” Arthur mutters, “C’mon, up.”

John flails a bit as Arthur picks him up, gasping and hiding his face in the older man’s shoulder as he wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist, the fake cock pushing further inside of him. 

“M- Fuck- Arthur-” John whispers and grabs at the older man’s shoulders, “Wait.”

“Goin’ to the bathroom, calm down,” Arthur mutters. 

“I _am_ calm,” John whispers petulantly and squirms, “Jesus, it-”

Arthur’s hands under his thighs squeeze lightly and John breathes out shakily. 

“Feels bigger,” John admits, barely getting the words out, then presses his forehead into Arthur’s neck as the older man huffs softly. 

Arthur carries him down the hall and nudges the door to the bathroom open with his foot, turning and setting John on the counter. 

“Art-” John mutters as he struggles out of the shirt, “I’m fine.”

“Hush,” Arthur mutters and turns away, drawing the shower curtain back and tugging it out before crouching to fiddle with the drain and the tap. 

“Why?”

“’Cause I said so.”

“I-” John huffs and squirms, looking down at himself, muttering, “Not what I meant.”

Arthur doesn’t respond as the tub starts to fill with water. 

John doesn’t lift his head as Arthur comes over with a damp washcloth, breath catching as Arthur gently wipes off his belly and thighs. 

“You’re bein’ soft,” John whispers unsteadily as the cloth strokes over his cock. 

“You’re soft,” Arthur mutters childishly as he rubs the cloth over the slit on the head of John’s cock. 

John lets out a small laugh in shock. 

Arthur pulls him off the counter and twists him around, fingers gripping the base of the dildo and gently tugging. 

John grips the edge of the counter, shoulders curling up as he bites his lower lip and tries not to clench around it.

“You sore at all yet?” Arthur whispers as the toy slides out and the cloth follows behind it, gently wiping over his hole. 

“Lil’,” John admits weakly and flinches lightly when both the toy and the washcloth are tossed in the sink next to him. 

“C’mon,” Arthur whispers and bullies John into the bath, supporting the younger man as John sinks into the hot water. 

“Ugh,” John squirms and stretches out before curling back up, bringing his knees in close and looking at Arthur questioningly, “We sharin’?”

“No,” Arthur mutters, “This is for you.”

“… You _are_ being soft,” John says slowly, letting his legs stretch back out, shifting more onto one hip. 

“Shut up,” Arthur sighs and slides down the wall to sit next to the tub. 

“… Are you mad at me?”

“What?” Arthur turns to frown at him, “No?”

“You… You’re bein’ funny,” John says slowly, “Like you’re guilty or somethin’.”

“I… I think we need to talk,” Arthur says quietly, “But I don’t know if I want to.”

“Talk?”

“About this,” Arthur mutters and gestures between them, “About _us.”_

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired and I’m-” Arthur shifts and wipes his hands off on his pants, “Damn, I’m tired too.”

“Are you still-?” John turns in the tub to face Arthur and hesitantly studies the older man, “You want me to blow you or somethin’?”

“No,” Arthur mutters then pauses as he realizes that came out kinda harshly, seeing John physically retreat, “Nah, I’m fine, Johnny.”

“Okay,” John whispers and slowly cups water up onto his arms. 

Arthur sighs and stands, grabbing another washcloth and tossing it to John then scrubbing his hands in the sink. 

“I’m gonna lay down,” Arthur murmurs, “You need anythin’?”

“No,” John hesitates and gestures awkwardly at himself, “Thank you.”

“G’night, John,” Arthur says softly and John just watches as the older man walks out of the bathroom.

\--

Arthur does so much for him already. 

He’s twenty fucking years old, he shouldn’t be having nightmares like this. 

Letting Arthur bathe him, standing outside the older man’s door two hours later with his eyes still itching from crying himself awake. 

John shifts his weight and crosses his arms tightly, staring at the crack between Arthur’s door and the doorframe. 

“Arthur?” John calls out, but his voice wavers, hoarse and watery. 

He hears shifting, creaking, fabric rustling and then the door opens wide and Arthur’s squinting out at him from the dark, hair ruffled and lines on his face from his pillow. 

“Sorry,” John says automatically.

“S’wrong?” Arthur frowns and clears his throat roughly, “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I-” John whispers and shifts again, arms crossed with his fingers digging into his waist, “Nightmare.”

“… Really?” Arthur asks tiredly and sighs before gesturing John inside his room. 

John presses his lips together to stop his lower lip from trembling as he shakes his head and starts to turn away. 

“ _John_ ,” Arthur says, impatient, “John, stop, come here.”

Arthur’s hand wraps around his arm and tugs him back towards his room. 

“Come on, just lay down with me, alright?” Arthur murmurs and kicks his door closed behind them, guiding John through the dark. 

John’s knees hit the bed and he stumbles, crawling on and laying up against the wall with Arthur’s encouragement. 

“Not tryin’ to be needy,” John whispers shakily, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not-” Arthur huffs roughly and flops down on the mattress, “Stop doin’ that.”

John can see Arthur’s eyes reflecting the light from the window behind him and cautiously reaches out for the older man, searching for Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur’s hand finds his first and tangles their fingers together. 

“Stop actin’ like you’re a burden, kid,” Arthur mutters and squeezes the younger’s hand, “We’re fine, alright? You’re fine.”

John squeezes Arthur’s hand and rubs roughly at his eyes before curling up next to the older man, holding Arthur’s hand to his chest.

\--

Arthur groans softly as he wakes up warm and wanting. 

Shifting his hips to rock against the heat in front of him. 

He blinks open his eyes and squints at the light before recognizing John’s flushed face in front of him, the younger man’s eyes closed tight, face downturned. 

Obviously awake. 

“Sorry,” Arthur mutters. 

“You don’t gotta be,” John whispers, extra hoarse. 

Arthur thinks it over for a moment then gives a mental fuck it before nudging John’s hip. 

“Sit up,” Arthur says softly, “’Gainst the wall.”

John’s dark eyes open and look at him curiously before following the instruction. 

Arthur shifts to kneel between John’s legs with John’s thighs slung over his own. 

“Said we needed to talk, yeah?” Arthur murmurs, “Need you to answer somethin’, ‘fore we do anythin’ else that isn’t for the stream.”

“Okay,” John whispers, nervously clenching his fingers in the sheets below him. 

“We’re friends, right?” Arthur asks slowly. 

“I- Yeah?” John says shakily, “We’re kinda more than that.”

“But you don’t _do_ serious,” Arthur says, and it’s not a question, John swallows his objection and shifts. 

“So, this ain’t serious,” Arthur says and John stares at the older man, wants to say a million things, “Right?”

“Right,” John gets out hoarsely.

“We aren’t… Boyfriends,” Arthur says slowly, the word tumbling out in an odd shape, unfamiliar, “But we… Have fun?”

“Pretty fun,” John says wryly and drops his gaze to the matching bulges in their pants, “That all?”

“I… Yeah, I guess,” Arthur mutters and tugs his pants down, squeezing his cock and scooting closer, pinning John to the window and pulling the younger man’s cock free as well. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is a double update

“Shit,” John whispers and shies as his cock twitches in Arthur’s hold. 

“You never get that loud,” Arthur murmurs and toys gently with John’s cock, pulling back the foreskin and rubbing over the head, “You can.”

“Habit,” John whispers, “Had to be quiet, at the ranch.”

“Hm.”

“Do… Do you want me to be loud?” John asks slowly. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Arthur’s thumb rubs over the slit on the head of John’s cock and John lets out a shuddering breath, “You almost said my name, last night.”

“Sorry,” John whispers.

Arthur looks at him strangely for a moment then lifts his hand to John’s mouth, pressing two fingers against the younger man’s lips. 

John makes a weak sound and opens his mouth readily. 

Arthur slips his fingers in and presses down on John’s tongue. 

“Get ‘em wet, Johnny,” Arthur says lowly and John squeezes the sheets, bobbing his head forward and closing his lips around the fingers, sliding his tongue around them. 

“What made you decide to hide your face?” Arthur asks as he watches the younger man work. 

John looks up at him and pulls off his fingers, spit dripping off onto his chin. 

“Got a kinda recognizable face,” John says hoarsely, “Why?”

“It’s a shame,” Arthur murmurs and presses his fingers back in, adding a third, pushing deeper, “You look so good, like this.”

John’s cheeks flush as a choked moan is muffled by Arthur’s fingers and his cock twitches between them, pre-come beading at the slit. 

Arthur huffs softly in amusement, moving his other hand to squeeze John’s thigh through the pajama pants. 

“Like that?” Arthur whispers, “Bein’ told how good you look?”

John nods weakly and bites down lightly on Arthur’s fingers before sucking, eyes hazy as he looks up at the older man. 

“Jesus,” Arthur mutters, “You get so worked up so quick.”

He pulls his fingers free and reaches down to grab John’s cock, shifting his hips and hooking his thumb behind his own, slicking both their lengths with John’s spit. 

John bites down on a groan then remembers and lets his lips part, staring at Arthur’s hand pressing their cock’s together. 

He’s a little shorter and a good bit narrower, and he’s never had the chance to just look like this, at the curve and thickness and the flushed head and the way he knows, now, that the toy Arthur got him almost mirrors the older man perfectly. 

“Fuck,” John whispers and his cock twitches, more pre-come beading and dribbling over his head before running down towards Arthur’s fingers. 

“What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” Arthur asks lowly, “Got you all hot?”

“You- You, inside me,” John says shakily and whimpers when Arthur squeezes their lengths together, “Fuckin’ me like that toy.”

“Yeah?” Arthur murmurs and his hips tilt, lightly fucking his cock against John’s. 

“Yeah, yeah,” John whispers and moves his hand to mirror Arthur’s, cupping around the other side and enclosing their cocks together, “You… When you picked me up last night, and that toy- But with my legs ‘round you-”

John swallows roughly and rocks his hips. 

“Felt huge,” John says shakily, “Felt like you was inside me, wanted you to pin me to the wall and fuck me ‘gain.”

Arthur’s quiet other than his soft breathing, looking down at their lengths as his cock starts to leak as well. 

“Jesus,” John whines and squirms, digging his heels into Arthur’s back, “Like this, yeah? You just… Usin’ me.”

Arthur grunts softly and presses John harder against the wall and the window, ducking his head and gritting his teeth. 

“Thought about you fuckin’ me up with that fake cock then gettin’ me hazy ‘nough you could just-” John squeezes their lengths and ruts up against the older man, “Pull it out, push yourself in.”

“Fuck,” Arthur says shakily and stills his hand, staring at their lengths, then John’s stomach, then John’s eyes. 

“Now I- I don’t wanna use it first,” John whispers, “Wanna feel you stretchin’ me.”

“John,” Arthur whispers hoarsely and John flusters, trying to hold the older man’s gaze. 

“Keep thinkin’ ‘bout… All the ways you could,” John says, unsteady as his grip falters, “All the places.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere, Arthur, shit,” John mutters and finally has to drop his gaze as embarrassment overwhelms him, “All over the house, maybe other places.”

 _“Where?”_ Arthur stresses, voice thin. 

John licks his lips and shifts his hips lightly, moving his hand to stroke Arthur, pushing the older man’s hand out of the way. 

“Maybe… At your work- In the stalls,” John says hesitantly, “In your truck… Out in the woods.”

“Dirty,” Arthur mutters then groans as John squeezes his cock at the base, “Keep goin’, shoulda known you’d-”

“Dressin’ rooms,” John says quickly, Arthur stilling against him, “And parkin’ garages and bathroom stalls and the alley behind that bar you like and-”

“Jesus,” Arthur gasps and moves both his hands to grip John’s thighs as his hips jerk, fucking himself into the younger man’s fist, “John, _John.”_

John just whimpers softly as Arthur’s come spills over his hand, his gut burning and chest tight. 

It runs over his knuckles, drips off his hand onto his own cock. 

Arthur lowers himself and presses his face into John’s neck, continuing to fuck into the younger man’s grip as John trembles under him. 

“Can’t,” John whispers as he feels Arthur’s come running down his cock, “Art- Close.”

“I would,” Arthur whispers, “All those places, everywhere, fuck you ‘til you’re beggin’ and cryin’ for me. You get so needy takin’ that fake cock, you’d never last with me fillin’ you up.”

“Arthur,” John says shakily then cries out as the older man’s hand wraps around his length warm and firm, “Arthur, _Arthur.”_

“C’mon,” Arthur murmurs, “Louder.”

“I- Arthur, please,” John whispers as the older man’s fingers squeeze at his base, “ _Please_ , Arthur?”

“Louder.”

“Fuck, c’mon,” John begs and squirms, gasping and whining echoing in the room, “Fuck me, please, Arthur?”

“You’d just embarrass yourself,” Arthur whispers, “Hm? Maybe I’ll have you sit in my lap at dinner tonight and ride me, make everyone blush as you beg and come all over yourself.” 

John cries out weakly and rocks his hips up as tears burn at his eyes. 

“Come, John, make a mess,” Arthur murmurs and presses his lips to the younger man’s neck then sits up, “For me?”

“F-Ah-” John squirms and moves his hands up to Arthur’s upper arms, squeezing as his cock jerks, come splashing onto his chest as Arthur strokes him through it. 

John makes a shaky sound as he feels his own spend hitting his neck, almost reaching his face. 

“Fuck,” John gasps, “Fuck, Arthur, oh my god.”

Arthur hums, and it’s a pleased, proud sound that tears through John, his cock giving another feeble jerk, a small drip of come falling onto his belly.


	11. Chapter 11

  
It feels like a secret, and John’s not sure he likes that. 

Sitting next to Arthur in the big diner booth, Charles on his other side, Javier, Sadie, and Abigail across from them. 

He wants to _touch_ , can’t stop thinking about what Arthur said and it’s driving him insane.

 _‘Maybe I’ll have you sit in my lap at dinner tonight and ride me-’_ Is just a taunting loop in his brain. 

He’s quiet, and he wonders if anyone notices. 

Eating his food and nodding or shaking his head when he’s addressed, but not offering much more than that. 

\--

Arthur’s hand pats his shoulder as the older man excuses himself to the bathroom while they’re walking out to the curb and John wonders for a moment if he’s supposed to follow. 

It’s a stupid, pathetic thought and John tries to swallow the humiliation burning low in him. 

“You alright?” Charles asks him quietly as the others are debating something lost to John rather loudly. 

John feels his face flushing and he nods quickly, dropping his gaze when he sees Charles’ brows furrow in that familiar picture of distrust. 

He’s never been a great liar.

And Charles is too perceptive. 

“Kinda dizzy,” John says hoarsely, “Dunno why.”

“Arthur’s driving, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Charles studies him and John feels the older man’s eyes burning into the side of his face, “Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John says weakly as Charles squeezes his shoulder, “You too.”

Charles moves on to give his goodbyes to the others and John startles when a hand settles on his lower back. 

Arthur blinks in surprise at the flash of fear on John’s face brows furrowing in concern and he almost says something before Charles comes over to say his farewells to Arthur. 

\--

“Feed store’s hiring,” Arthur murmurs, not looking up from his phone. 

John blinks and slowly chews through his bite of chicken, head tilting slightly in confusion. 

“Okay?”

Arthur glances up at him and gestures vaguely with his phone. 

“You should apply.”

“I don’t… I don’t really need to?”

Arthur’s quiet for a long moment and it starts to eat at John, he sets down his fork and sits back in his chair, nervous nausea building in him. 

“You should,” Arthur says slowly, like he’s explaining something extremely _simple_ to John and he’s disappointed the younger man doesn’t understand.

“I… Did I forget to move my half-?” John starts to ask before Arthur cuts him off with an exasperated look. 

“This isn’t gonna last, you know that,” Arthur says, “You should get a real job, while it’s available.”

John can’t exactly pinpoint why that cuts into him so much. 

Whether it’s the idea of stopping, or of Arthur’s disapproval, or maybe that Arthur wants-

“Do you not… Do you want to stop?” John asks cautiously. 

Arthur stares at him for a moment then sighs and looks back down at his phone. 

“Eventually, yeah,” Arthur mutters, “The deal was… Your first time, for real, right? But you ain’t ready, so we’re just fuckin’ around.”

“We… We’re still makin’ decent money… Doin’ whatever,” John argues softly. 

“But that ain’t gonna last, John,” Arthur says harshly and sets down his phone on the table, a bit roughly, looking up again, meeting John’s wide eyes, “I’m not gonna jerk you off forever, yeah? I get that you ain’t ready to… Go all the way, but _that’s_ the end of this, that’s the last time I’m joinin’, _right?”_

John sucks on his teeth as his eyes burn and he drops his gaze to the table, his plate of food. 

“Right,” John whispers. 

“Just… I don’t know how long you’re gonna take to be ready, but not that long, right?” Arthur rubs his brow roughly then picks up his fork and stabs a piece of overcooked broccoli, “So, you should apply to this while the opportunity is _available.”_

\--

John sits slowly on his bed with the dildo and vibrator, swallowing roughly and jerking his bedside drawer closed after grabbing the new bottle of lube. 

He’s gone through three times as much, lately, and he completely shoulders that blame on Arthur. 

And how Arthur loves to soak him with it, when he’s being fucked open, keeping the toy moving easy. 

John squirms and curses under his breath and squeezes his cock through his boxers. 

How the hell is he supposed to last through Arthur fucking him if just _thinking_ about how Arthur pampers him has him leaking. 

John grabs the little vibrator and slips it into the soft band, fiddling with the settings just to see how it feels in his hand. 

Then he turns it off and shoves his boxers down his legs, sliding the band around his cock and letting out a small, shaky sound. 

Arthur was out in the kitchen, working on something with Charles on the phone, and it seemed like it would last for awhile. 

John can’t hear the older man talking, so he’s gonna safely assume he won’t be heard if he gets a bit whiny. 

God, he hasn’t even turned on the vibrator, he hasn’t even worked himself open and he’s already on edge. 

John lays back roughly, tugs up his shirt and grabs the lube, slicking up his fingers and spreading his legs to rub over his asshole. 

Gently pushing in. 

Arthur’s three fingers are his four, squeezed together and they’re still not quite as big as the toy…

Or _Arthur._

John makes another shaky sound as he works in one finger, then two, still a bit loose from cleaning himself in the shower. 

He brings his other hand up to his cock and turns the dial on the bullet, freezing as it starts to pulse, low and strong. 

John stares up at the ceiling, breathing shallow. 

His cock jerks and starts to dribble pre-come onto his stomach and he whines softly.

Arthur liked him loud, liked him to last, get needy and worked up before he comes. 

John swallows and inhales shakily as he remembers the other night, Arthur’s low, thrumming anger, impatience, coming out in a moment of irritation and John-

John hadn’t even _noticed._

Arthur said it was okay, before, that he wasn’t ready, that they did another show without Arthur fucking him and-

But Arthur was right, they can’t keep putting it off forever. 

_John_ can’t keep putting it off. 

He slips another finger into himself and moves his free hand up to his mouth, pressing his knuckles to his lips as he spreads his fingers and starts to stretch himself. 

He’s worried that that’ll be it. 

That Arthur will fuck him and he’ll come too soon and it won’t even be good for the older man, then Arthur won’t ever touch him again. 

They keep spitting out fantasies, when they’re together, stupid ideas and then, out of those situations, it’s like nothing ever happened. 

Arthur’s not even touchy anymore, doesn’t hold him on the couch or initiate anything. 

He’ll let John lean into him, let John sit close to him, but he’s stopped seeking out the younger. 

John adds his fourth finger as his eyes water and he shifts his hips weakly.

Reaches down, turns the strength up on the vibrator. 

He has to stop himself from crooking his fingers, seeking out his prostate and just _getting off._

John pulls his fingers out and wipes the lube off on the towel he brought with him, sitting up enough to grab the fake cock. 

He lays down slower, studying it for a moment. 

He’s seen it plenty, obviously, but since it was pointed out he can’t stop comparing it to Arthur. 

His mouth waters and John feels his cheeks flushing as he closes his eyes tight and presses the toy to his mouth, hesitates. 

Pushes his tongue out and licks up the firm silicone, wishing it was hot and salty like Arthur. 

Pushes it between his lips, reaching down to choke the base of his cock as he pushes the fake cock deeper until it’s a struggle to breath, focusing hard on relaxing to not gag and not _come_.

John keeps the toy seated _just_ in his throat and turns the dial so the vibe is pulsing, steady and strong and his cock is jerking, dripping onto his belly. 

John pulls the toy out, spit dripping onto his chin and chest as he pants and makes a low, weak noise. 

He presses the soaked head of the fake cock to his hole and misses the feeling of it filling his mouth. 

Wonders, briefly, if Arthur would ever take him with someone else to help. 

He presses harder on the toy and gasps, turning his head into the sheets as it pops in, a bit rough, a bit tight. 

Just like he wants Arthur to take him. 

John’s eyelids flutter as he squirms and presses. 

Until it’s seated to the base and he wonders how it’ll feel as Arthur, if he’ll feel the older man’s cock twitching, if Arthur’s balls will press against his ass and-

John makes another shaky sound and lays back, just trying to get comfortable will the intense fullness. 

He vaguely hears Arthur talking, closer now, and glances at his door. 

It’s not latched, there’s no point. 

“He’s here, yeah,” Arthur says and he’s close, like just outside the door close.

John pushes up onto his elbows just in time for the door to open and Arthur to blink at the sight of him, flushed and breathing heavy with pre-come steadily leaking. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> non con exhibitionism that turns very very consensual now featuring charthuston but this is still endgame morston  
> there's a wip of the art that goes with this chapter on my horny twt  
> [here](https://twitter.com/swampslip/status/1325573541140471810)  
> UPDATE: [finished it](https://twitter.com/swampslip/status/1336879717127884801)

Arthur stares for a second, and John hears Charles say something on the other end as Arthur tilts his head. 

“Nah, I’m still here,” Arthur says casually, “Hey, John?”

John swallows and blinks up at Arthur, looking at him for explanation. 

“Charles says you didn’t feel well when we went out the other night,” Arthur comes to the foot of the bed, looking down at him with an amused quirk of his mouth, “Wants to know if you’re feelin’ better?”

“I- I’m fine,” John says slowly, trying to keep his voice even. 

“You hear that?” Arthur asks, still looking at John. 

There’s more muffled speech from Charles’ end as Arthur lifts his leg and kneels on the mattress. 

Arthur sets the phone down next to John and John just stares up at Arthur. 

“I’m fine, Charles,” John says and shifts as Arthur lifts his legs and shuffles to settle between them, “Sorry for worryin’ you.”

“Oh-” Charles says and there’s rustling on the other end of the phone, “Hey, John. Glad to hear it.”

“You pickin’ up that set of mares?” Arthur asks casually as he grabs the base of the fake cock and shifts it lightly, testing. 

John has to raise his hand to his mouth, muffling himself. 

“Tuesday,” Charles says and the sound of pen on paper can be heard in the background, “Late, _real late.”_

“You can stay here, if you want,” Arthur says and John’s hips rock as the toy is slipped out and then back in. 

Firm and slow, it drives John crazy but he knows if it’s faster there’s a risk of the lube squelching as he’s clenching around it and Charles-

John whispers a curse behind his hand and grabs under his thigh, pulling his knee to his chest. 

“It’ll be well past midnight,” Charles protests. 

“And well past two if you drive all the way to Hosea’s,” Arthur says pointedly as John tries not to move too much, as he feels the pool of pre-come on his belly start to drip down the side of his waist. 

“If you’re fine-”

“More than fine, Charles, you know you’re always welcome here,” Arthur says and angles the toy again. 

John can’t hold back the short whine and his face feels like it’s on fire as Charles’ end goes silent. 

There are tears of humiliation forming in his eyes and he knows, there’s no way that it’s not obvious. 

“I can go,” Charles says slowly, cautiously, “If you’re… Busy.”

“If you want,” Arthur says, studying John and it’s an offer.

John stares at him and blinks hard, the tears spilling over and tracking down his cheeks. 

“Hold on,” Charles says and there’s louder rustling in the background, a chair scraping, footsteps down a long hall as Arthur continues to fuck the toy into John. 

John bites at his palm and listens, turning his head to watch as the call time continues to tick up. 

A door opens and shuts and there’s another moment of silence. 

“Charles?” Arthur asks softly and stills moving the toy. 

“I’m-” Charles cuts himself off and there are soft footsteps again, Charles’ voice, quieter, “I’m in my room.”

“Oh,” Arthur says then laughs softly, “Interested?”

“What are you doing?” Charles asks quietly. 

His answer is John’s whimpering gasp as Arthur fucks the toy into him, bottoming out. 

John whines against his hand and gives up on trying to stay still, rocking hips onto the fake cock. 

“Shit, John,” Charles whispers and there’s the soft creaking of an old bed frame, more fabric rustling. 

“He went and stuffed himself with a toy while we were workin’,” Arthur says wryly and reaches up to turn the dial on the vibrator up, “Got a little bullet strapped to his pretty lil’ cock too.”

“How long have y’all been-?” Charles asks and John makes a shaky sound when Arthur nudges his legs open a little further and his cock continues dribbling down his side and soaking into the sheets. 

“Just a couple weeks, messin’ round,” Arthur says and John’s surprised he didn’t bring up the camming. 

“John?” Charles prompts and his voice is a bit lower than normal and John wishes he could see exactly what Charles is doing. 

“Yeah?” John asks shakily and lifts his hand up to his hair, shoving it out of his face. 

“You okay with this?” Charles asks and it’s soft and caring and John swallows roughly, wiping at his eyes. 

“Surprised,” John says then gasps as Arthur slides the toy out of him entirely, bullying him into turning until he’s on his hands and knees, “Fuck.”

“Got him kneelin’,” Arthur says slowly, “Bet he’d look real nice blowin’ you.”

“Shit,” Charles mutters and there’s a slick sound and a small groan, “Yeah?”

“He’s real good at it, real eager,” Arthur murmurs and slides the toy back into John while the younger man struggles to hold himself up. 

Arthur reaches under him and slides the vibe off, twisting it until it turns off and tossing it up the bed. 

“Likes it when you’re a bit rough,” Arthur seats the toy in him then puts both his hands on either side of John’s ass, squeezing. 

“Please,” John whispers, looking under himself as his cock keeps dripping, jerking in the air. 

“Bet he’d come if you fucked his throat,” Arthur mutters, “Bet he wouldn’t even need a hand on him.”

Charles huffs a small noise and it’s amused and familiar and John squirms, dropping down on his elbows and closing his eyes. 

“You two ever-?” John asks shakily.

“Couple times,” Charles says breathily, “While back.”

“Long while back,” Arthur mutters and tilts the fake cock down harshly, a sharp angle that presses hard into John’s prostate. 

“H-Ah-” John gasps and whimpers, rocking back in time with the thrusts, “Close.”

“Hey, John,” Charles says lowly, “You interested?”

“Really?” John whispers, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Mm, will you be up? Tuesday night?”

“He will,” Arthur says slowly, “Always is.”

“Yeah,” John says weakly and rubs his cheek against his forearm, “You serious?”

“If you are,” Charles says and makes a small noise, “Both of you.”

“You close?” John whispers, reaching over and clicking the volume up to max, Arthur laughing under his breath behind him. 

“Pretty- S’been a while for me,” Charles mutters, “You sound… Good.”

John’s cheeks ache as he hides his face in his arms and arches his back, pressing his ass into Arthur’s touch.

The sound of Charles’ hand moving over his cock is more obvious with the sound turned up. 

John squirms and clenches around the toy inside him as Arthur’s other hand cups his balls and squeezes lightly. 

John whimpers and rocks back and reaches down to steady his cock as his stomach clenches. 

“Arthur-” John whines then breathes out heavily, “Charles-”

“Go on,” Arthur murmurs and his hand covers John’s, strokes the younger man’s cock with John’s hand as he hit the blunt head of the toy against John’s prostate with no mercy, no restraint, “Come for us, John, be loud ‘bout it.”

John hiccups on a sob and cries out, fucking into their combined grip then back onto the toy as he comes, thick ribbons across the sheet as he spends. 

“Please, please-” John moans then breaks off weakly. 

Charles hisses over the phone then makes a thin, hoarse sound and the slick sound of his hand stripping his cock is louder. 

John closes his eyes tight and wonders what Charles looks like when he comes. 

Arthur makes a small noise behind him and John struggles out of the older man's grip, crawling off the bed and Arthur turns to watch him. 

“Shit,” Charles mutters through the phone and Arthur picks it up, bringing it into his lap. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, fine, just made a mess,” Charles says, half-amused half-annoyed. 

Arthur laughs whole-heartedly and hears Charles grumbling at him quietly before Charles sighs. 

“I… That was nice, but I do have to get ready for work,” Charles murmurs. 

“Yeah you do,” Arthur hums and looks up at John, “Come here, Tuesday.”

“I will,” Charles sighs and there’s rustling and creaking and John fidgets, standing in front of him. 

“You gonna stop and eat or you want me to make somethin’?” John asks, still a bit shaky. 

“Aw,” Charles coos then murmurs, “You gonna cook for me?”

“D- Don’t expect nothin’ fancy,” John mutters and crosses his arms, looking down at the mess of himself. 

“I’d appreciate that, John, thank you,” Charles says softly, “Looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says lowly, looking up at John, “Us too.”


	13. Chapter 13

Charles says his goodbyes and Arthur sets the phone down next to him, looking up at John. 

“What were you doin’?” Arthur asks quietly. 

“What?”

“’Fore I came in?” Arthur quirks his mouth to the side and looks down John’s body, “Thought you hadn’t used both yet.”

“… I hadn’t,” John whispers and shifts, “Do you want me to blow you or can I go clean up?”

“C’mere,” Arthur says and waits until John’s just in front of the bed, “You’re okay with this, right?”

“What?”

“Charles?” Arthur asks softly, “Joinin’ us.”

“He- Y’all have…” John frowns lightly and shifts, “Just for fun?”

“… Doubt he’s interested in anythin’ serious right now,” Arthur says slowly. 

“I don’t know,” John whispers, “How this is gonna play out… You two… And we’ve… But I’ve never- I didn’t even know Charles… Leaned our way.”

Arthur quirks a brow at him and nods towards the door. 

“Go clean up, I gotta finish this paperwork.”

\--

It’s kind of amusing, watching John get nervous, as the younger man flips through popular recipes and then stares into their fridge. 

“He likes steak, right?” John asks, and turns to stare at Arthur pleadingly, “Right?”

“Yeah, John,” Arthur says, barely containing his grin, “He does.”

“Steak…” John says under his breath and turns back around, digging in the freezer while Arthur watches from the dining table. 

\--

John’s curled up in the corner of the couch nearing midnight, almost asleep, wrapped in a blanket, a plate for Charles kept warm in the oven. 

He hears Charles’ truck pulling up and sits up too fast, his head pulsing with his heartbeat as he stumbles over to the front door. 

Charles is leaning into the back of his truck, digging around and John can see bits of hay stuck to the older man in the light from the porch. 

John steps out onto the cool concrete and pulls the blanket tighter around himself. 

The truck door closes and the lights flash with a quiet beep as it’s locked and Charles turns around. 

“Hey,” Charles says, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder as he walks up to John, wraps his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and squeezes him lightly in greeting, “You are up.”

“Were you worried?” John huffs and resists the urge to press closer, stepping away and guiding Charles into the house. 

“A bit, maybe,” Charles says and it’s easy and fond and tired, “You always used to pass out when you tried to wait up for us back at Dutch’s.”

“That was years ago,” John mutters and closes the door behind them, letting Charles take off his jacket and boots, “Do you wanna take a shower first?”

Charles lifts his head and looks at him curiously as he toes off his other boot and steps closer. 

“I- I mean before you eat,” John says breathily as Charles takes another step closer. 

“You cooked?” The older man asks and his lips are twitching into a smile. 

“I said I was gonna,” John whispers. 

“Is Arthur up?”

“No?” John looks over his shoulder towards Arthur’s bedroom, “I think he’s asleep.”

“Hm.”

“You can-” John swallows and hugs the blanket to himself tighter, nodding for Charles to follow him, “Where do you wanna sleep?”

“Depends,” Charles says as they get close to the bathroom and John stops, questioning. 

Charles nudges open the bathroom door and raises a brow at something John can’t see. 

John leans in to peer around the doorframe and curses. 

“Shit- I-” John ducks into the bathroom and grabs the dildo out of the shower caddy, hiding it under the blanket and turning around to face Charles, cheeks pink, “Uh.”

Charles is looking at him in amusement, just a touch of heat in his sleepy gaze and John mutters an apology and moves to slide past the older man. 

Charles’ hand catches his waist and stops him. 

“Hey,” Charles says gently, “There’s no pressure, alright? To go through with anything.”

“… I’m just a little- I don’t know,” John whispers and keeps his eyes on Charles’ dirty crewneck. 

“Nervous?” Charles whispers back and squeezes John’s waist lightly, “It’s okay.”

John makes a small sound and nods and shifts to move out of the bathroom again, but Charles doesn’t let him. 

“We can talk it out, alright?” Charles murmurs and pulls John back in, “You still trust me?”

“Yeah,” John says shakily and Charles gives him a soft smile, pulling John against his chest by the back of the younger man’s head and John feels safe.

The smell of horses and hay and rain and leather, Charles is warm and it all feels like home.

\--

John sits back on the couch as he listens to the shower run. 

Idly wondering if Arthur’ll wake up from it. 

The water cuts off and John tries to seem casual as the minutes tick by, then Charles rounds the corner, toweling off his hair. 

Only wearing flannels, like Arthur’s but gray, not blue. 

“Hi,” John says weakly. 

“Hi,” Charles repeats and idles at the end of the couch, “Did you eat already?”

“I’m… Not hungry.”

“Hm,” Charles eyes him curiously and John hops up from the couch, dropping the blanket, and hurries past Charles into the kitchen, gesturing at the dining table. 

Charles sits and hangs the towel over the back of his chair as he waits. 

“Do you want a beer?” John calls from in the kitchen. 

“Sure,” Charles calls back and his brows furrow lightly as he listens to the clinking and opening and closing of drawers and cabinets. 

John comes back out with a plate and two bottles and a nervous expression. 

He sets down the plate with silverware and one of the beers in front of Charles then sits across from the older man, drawing one leg up onto the chair and cradling his beer close. 

Charles raises one brow at the steak and vegetables then at John who’s looking at him in concern. 

“Arthur… Said you liked steak.”

“I do,” Charles says and takes a sip of the beer, “You said nothing fancy.”

“I-” John ducks his head and presses the lip of the bottle to his mouth, mumbling, “I didn’t wanna make you eat shitty food.”

Charles laughs softly and sees John curl in on himself slightly, visibly shrinking in the chair. 

“Hey,” Charles says softly, “Thank you.”

“You haven’t tried it,” John mutters and drinks deeply from his bottle, not meeting Charles’ eyes. 

Charles quirks his mouth and picks up the silverware to cut into the steak and sees John watching his hands. 

It’s a little well done to his taste, but it’s not gonna wear out his jaw or anything. 

He makes a small hum of pleasure for John’s benefit and the younger man’s eyes flick up to his then back down to the table between them. 

“It’s good, John,” Charles murmurs between bites, “Thank you.”

“Arthur says I can’t cook,” John mutters, “You don’t gotta lie, there’s other stuff in-”

“John,” Charles interrupts softly, “It’s not bad, at all, and more than anything I appreciate you cooking for me.”

He can hear John swallow from across the table and takes another bite, chewing slowly while he watches the younger man. 

“Okay,” John whispers. 

“You sure you’re not hungry?” Charles asks and gestures lightly at the beer, “That your first?”

John slowly shakes his head. 

Charles pauses and frowns lightly at the younger man. 

“You really that nervous about me?”

“No- I-” John protests and looks up, then past Charles towards Arthur’ door and back to Charles.

Charles slowly resumes eating, watching John try to come up with some kind of answer and not getting anywhere fast. 

“I don’t know what we’re doin’,” John says hoarsely, “I’m sorry.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Arthur… He made it real clear nothin’s serious, yeah? Just… Fun,” John says and pauses to take another drink, “So you’re… You’re here _for fun,_ too?”

Charles huffs slightly and sits back, tilting his head lightly in confusion. 

“Arthur doesn’t _do_ ‘for fun’,” Charles says lightly, “You know that. He’s… He likes bein’ close to people he cares about, it’s not… Since Mary he…”

“He doesn’t stick to one person,” John fills in quietly. 

“But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, about you, or me,” Charles says softly. 

John doesn’t respond to that, just silently returns to sipping on his beer. 

\--

Charles insists he wash his own plate, knowing where everything is anyway, and that John’s done enough. 

“You tired now?” Charles asks quietly as John watches him from the entryway to the kitchen. 

“You?” John asks and it’s ever so slightly slurred. 

Charles dries off his hands then walks over to John. 

“Yeah, I could sleep,” Charles says softly, “Where do you want me?”

He watches John’s eyes stray down as the younger man’s cheeks darken again. 

“To sleep, John,” Charles says lightly and John presses his lips together, nervous again. 

“With me?” John whispers. 

“Do you want that?”

John nods jerkily and reaches out, wrapping his thin hands around Charles’ upper arm and tugging at him. 

It doesn’t move him, at all, but Charles lets the younger man guide him through the house, turning off the lights behind them until they get to John’s room.

John lets go of him and Charles watches the younger man crawl onto the bed and struggle with the covers. 

Charles nudges the door shut behind them and walks over to the bed. 

“Which side you sleep on?”

“Middle,” John mumbles and finally manages to get under the covers, sitting up in the middle of the mattress. 

“Okay… Where do you want me to sleep?” Charles tries to clarify and watches in amusement as John’s eyes stray down to his chest again. 

“On me,” John whispers and Charles huffs a laugh, lifts up a knee to crawl onto the bed. 

John lays back, in the middle and Charles carefully leans over him, holding himself up, quirking a brow down at John. 

“On me,” John whispers again and his hands are skittish on Charles’ waist, tentatively holding. 

Charles lowers himself slowly until he’s half laying on John, half next to the younger man. 

John makes a small, pleased sound and wraps his arms around Charles more firmly, pressing his face into Charles’ neck. 

“Miss you,” John whispers and squeezes the older man. 

“I’m right here,” Charles mutters but he gets it, he misses them too, it’s odd, not living all together, trying to keep up as they slowly grow apart. 

“Love you,” John whispers but it’s shakier. 

Charles lets out a small breath and moves off of John completely so he can squeeze the younger man in return. 

“Love Arthur,” John whispers and now his voice sounds wet, _“Different.”_

“Yeah, I can see that,” Charles murmur, “How many beers did you have?”

“Too many,” John says hoarsely and hides against Charles, his hand straying down Charles’ belly, “Wanna?”

“No,” Charles says and grabs John’s hand, bringing it back up to his waist, “Not tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” John murmurs. 

Charles feels John go lax in his arms within minutes and shakes his head in mild exasperation at both the younger man and Arthur and the mess he’s been pulled into. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh wow this camming fic sure can fit a lot of angst in it

John wakes up with a pounding headache and his face pressed to Charles’ warm chest. 

John groans weakly and feels Charles chuckle under him. 

“Half-hoped you’d smother me in my sleep,” John grumbles. 

“We can try again some other time,” Charles murmurs and his voice is low and thick with sleep, “Maybe you’ll get lucky. 

John already feels warm, cozied up to Charles but he gets so much warmer at that tone, that promise. 

He keeps his face hidden against Charles and stretches his legs out with a little hum.

Tensing and tensing and then slumping, snuggling down into Charles. 

“Time?”

“’Round seven.”

John groans noisily and moves more on top of Charles. 

“Too early.”

“Arthur’s up.”

“Well that’s his problem.”

“I’d like to get up, as well.”

John moans and groans and bitches under his breath then sits up, squinting down at Charles who’s looking up at him in amusement. 

“You done?” Charles murmurs and squeezes John’s waist. 

“No, you need to sleep more,” John says with a threatening wag of his finger, “I know you don’t get ‘nough.”

“I get plenty, John.”

“Nope.”

There’s a light knock on the door. 

“Y’all up?”

“Yeah,” John calls back to Arthur and rolls his eyes. 

“… Can I come in?”

John frowns in confusion then turns to look and realizes the door’s shut, latched. 

He blinks and wonders if Charles did that without him noticing. 

“Yeah, sorry,” John says and shifts off Charles, sitting up as Arthur comes in, “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s fine,” Arthur says quietly and he seems… Subdued. 

John looks at him for a moment then gestures at the door to Charles.

“We only close ‘em fully if we don’t wanna be bothered.”

Charles raises a brow at them but nods in silent acknowledgment. 

And John can tell that Charles can tell something is off with Arthur. 

“Ugh,” John groans and cups his forehead, “Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Just come out n’ lay on the couch,” Arthur mutters and comes over to the bed, pulling John up by his arms and bullying the younger man out of his room. 

Then turning back to Charles and holding out his hand. 

Charles stands and they’re too close. 

Arthur presses his lips together then slides his hands around Charles’ bare waist and leans into the younger man for a moment, feeling Charles huff a laugh as hands come up and cup his shoulder-blades. 

“Hey, Arthur,” Charles whispers, “It’s only been a couple days.”

“You know it’s different,” Arthur mutters, “Can’t be… Soft, front of them.”

“I know,” Charles hums and presses closer for a moment. 

“I feel like I’m missin’ the show,” John says wryly from the doorway and Arthur scoffs. 

“You didn’t wake me up last night.”

“What?” John asks loudly then grimaces, “You didn’t tell me to.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and lets go of Charles, moving over to cuff the back of John’s head as he passes the younger man in the threshold. 

John smiles and looks back at Charles, nodding in invitation and question towards the living room and Charles shakes his head, wonders deeply for a moment, how John or Arthur could ever be ‘just for fun’. 

\--

Charles is easy with affection. 

It wasn’t like that at first. 

It wasn’t like that for years. 

At least not with John-

Now that he knows Arthur and Charles fooled around without him realizing, he wonders what else he didn’t realize about them, either of them. 

Now he watches Arthur lean in, unnecessarily close, and the way Charles makes space for him, tilts his head and leans against the older man and John watches all of with a sense of longing and jealousy. 

Sitting on the couch, rubbing one eye tiredly.

“John?” Arthur calls without looking up from something Charles is showing him in that stack of papers they’ve been working on. 

“Yeah?”

“Coffee?”

John shifts on the couch, blinking uncertainly, sitting up. 

“… D’you want me to make it?” John asks quietly and Arthur’s head finally lifts, frowning at him. 

“Already did, askin’ if you want some.”

“Oh… I’m fine.”

Arthur studies him for a moment then looks back down at the papers and mumbles something about gas prices, pushing a sheet across the table to Charles. 

\--

John’s too nervous and too nauseous to eat, so he stays on the couch and feels useless, listening to the older men discuss their work…

Their real work, as Arthur put it. 

John grabs his phone and checks his inbox. 

He happens to know the owner of the feed store, worked for him at a co-op once, years ago. 

It expedited the process, the old man remembering him when they talked over the phone. 

There’s an email, from him, a reply to their previous conversation and normally John would shove his phone at Arthur, ask the older man to open any sort of news or results for him. 

He opens it himself, reads the message twice then scrolls down to see his new schedule. 

John feels his stomach rolling and closes his phone, setting it back on the side table. 

There’s no excuse, now. 

\--

John’s not sure when he fell back asleep but Arthur’s hands picking him up and gently moving him is what wakes him. 

“C’mon, stop hoggin’ the whole thing,” Arthur mutters and John scrubs his hands over his face, sitting up and ending up in the middle of the couch. 

Charles is standing just to the side, comes closer and sits on one side of John, while Arthur sits on the other and then John remembers why they’re here. 

“Sorry,” John mumbles, “Tired.”

“S’fine,” Arthur murmurs and he grabs the remote, slinging an arm behind John and relaxing back into the cushions and John’s nervous, again. 

Fidgeting, again. 

Sinking down a bit and crossing his arms loosely, hugging himself. 

“Hey,” Charles murmurs, “Calm down.”

It’s a direct confronting of the fact that John is not at all calm. 

“Sorry,” John whispers. 

“Hm?” Arthur asks from his other side and the older man’s fingers settle on John’s crown, petting him lightly, “Why?”

“… Nervous.”

Arthur’s fingers still, for a moment, then slowly stroke down to John’s nape, over to cup his far shoulder and John shivers. 

“What d’you think’s gonna happen?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” John says pointedly, “That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Charles is right,” Arthur mutters, “You should calm down.”

John swallows and there’s a bit of shame in his chest. 

He shouldn’t be nervous, right? It’s just Arthur, just Charles, and he trusts them. 

But what if Charles wants to fuck and then they have to explain-

What if _Arthur_ does and then the whole arrangement-

What if they’d rather be with eachother, without John’s inexperience-

What if Charles doesn’t like-

What if Arthur thinks he’s-

“John,” Charles says, louder this time and John looks up to see Charles kneeling, next to him. 

Realizes he’s breathing too fast and that’s why his vision’s gone a bit blurry, that’s why Charles’ hand is on his wrist, taking his pulse and subtly squeezing. 

“Sorry- Sorry,” John says quickly, roughly, “I’m okay.”

“No you’re not,” Charles says slowly and coaxes John into sitting up straighter, “Thought you stopped having these.”

“Did- Haven’t-” John swallows thickly and rubs his hands down his thighs, “I’m fine.”

“Jesus,” Arthur murmurs, and John realizes the older man’s arm is no longer around him, Arthur sitting back, frowning at him lightly, “If you didn’t want Charles to-”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Charles says and it’s sharp. 

And John watches Arthur tense, cowed, just a bit. 

Charles’ other hand moves to the top of his spine and squeezes his nape and John leans back into the touch. 

His face is hot with embarrassment and he closes his eyes. 

“You still haven’t eaten,” Charles says quietly. 

“… Not hungry.”

“Will you try?”

“… Yeah.”

“Arthur?”

“Yeah,” Arthur mutters and his weight moves off the couch and John shrinks away. 

It makes Arthur pause, just for a half-second, a stutter in his gait. 

Then he moves off and disappears into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” John says again and grimaces and shifts. 

“Stop apologizing.”

“You were- I said… I can still blow you, or whatever- If you-”

“John,” Charles says, firm and quiet and John falls still, “Calm down.”

It’s no longer a suggestion, more of an order, and John oddly feels soothed by that. 

Charles used to hold rank over him, at Dutch’s, and John’s used to following orders. 

“You two need to talk,” Charles says slowly. 

“We have.”

“Not enough, clearly,” Charles whispers, “Not honestly.”

John grimaces and opens his eyes and Charles is studying him intensely. 

“Why are you scared?” Charles whispers, brows furrowing, “He hasn’t hurt you, right?”

“No- God, no,” John sits up sharply, “No.”

“… Okay.”

“He hasn’t, I promise, he’s been real… Nice,” John flushes and shifts his weight, “He… He caught me streaming, one day, joined me a couple times but they… They’ve wanted to see me lose-”

John trails off for a moment then mutters quietly. 

“Never been taken by a man, there are some offers for lotta money, if Arthur…”

“… I see.”

“So, soon, yeah?” John whispers, “No point in pushin’ it off.”

Charles frowns at him silently and John feels judged and he doesn’t like it in the slightest. 

“I want it,” John says quietly, “I really do.”


	15. Chapter 15

Charles’ eyes fall away, obviously thinking deeply about something and John looks up as Arthur comes out of the kitchen a bit awkwardly, holding a glass and a plate. 

Arthur sits down next to John and sits the plate in the younger man’s lap, holding the glass out until John takes it. 

“Sorry,” Arthur says quietly, “Not mad at you.”

“… S’fine,” John mumbles and sips on the orange juice before picking at the sandwich and bringing small bites to his mouth, “I get _why_.”

“I said we don’t have to do anything,” Charles says and pulls his hands back to himself, “I meant it.”

“I know- I-” John swallows roughly and takes another small sip, “I’m… Interested. Didn’t know it was an option.”

“Oh,” Charles huffs softly, “Well…”

“I don’t… If this is an opportunity… I don’t wanna pass it up,” John mutters, “And I’m not tryin’ to be difficult, I swear.”

“You ain’t bein’ difficult,” Arthur mutters, “Just stop… Stop expectin’ anythin’. You’re overthinkin’ it.”

“You say that like I don’t _know that-_ ” John inhales roughly and takes a bigger bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly. 

Arthur just sighs and leans back against the couch. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Charles mutters. 

“You love us,” John mumbles with his mouth full and Charles rolls his eyes, turning and laying back against the cushions, “… I am sorry.”

“Then-”

“No… Really,” John says quietly, “I committed to somethin’.”

“There was no commitment-”

“I want to do this, I do, I really _really_ do, alright? And I said I did and I _do_.”

“John,” Arthur says quietly. 

“Just gimme a minute,” John murmurs and gestures with the plate and drink. 

Charles looks at him behind John’s head and Arthur shakes his head lightly, watching the younger man between them. 

\--

John ends up getting up, moving around, disappearing into the bathroom for a while. 

“Arthur,” Charles says quietly, “What did you do to him?”

“What?” Arthur asks sharply, “Don’t you blame me for- For this.”

“What is ‘this’?”

Arthur’s cheeks puff out in anger and the older man stares ahead at the TV then he deflates. 

“Hell if I know.”

“John said something about… Camming.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you-?”

“Yes. Yeah,” Arthur flusters a bit, “With him, mostly.”

“… Wouldn’t have thought you’d ever do that,” Charles says quietly, amused. 

“S’for him… Mostly. 

“Mmhm, mostly.”

“Shut up.”

\--

John hesitates when he comes back out, hair damp. 

Charles notices him first and looks up at him from where he’s moved to the middle seat, leaning on Arthur. 

John swallows lightly and shifts the bottle of lube in his hand and it draws Charles’ eyes down. 

“Oh,” Charles says quietly. 

Arthur looks up at him as well, then. 

John wonders if his face can get any more red. 

“Is that a request or an offer?” Arthur asks softly, gesturing with the arm around Charles’ shoulders. 

“Either, dependin’.”

“On?” Arthur asks.

“What y’all want.”

Charles hums quietly and holds his hand out to John.

John steps closer and lets himself be pulled into Charles’ lap, flustering when his legs have to spread wider to accommodate Charles’ thighs. 

“What _have_ you done?” Charles asks quietly and John glances at Arthur, the outside of his knee against Arthur’s hip. 

“Most stuff that isn’t… Just… Fuckin’,” John mutters and fidgets with the bottle. 

“That toy…?”

“Arthur got it for me.”

“Oh?” Charles blinks and looks back at Arthur who’s resolutely not meeting his gaze, “Hm.”

“When’d you show him-?” Arthur whispers. 

“Left it in the shower,” John says sheepishly and Arthur huffs. 

“Was _that_ what was inside you on the phone?” Charles quirks a brow, looking between them, “Pretty big.”

“Big as Arthur,” John says then flushes and drops his eyes. 

“… Yeah, if my memory’s good,” Charles says slyly and sits up a bit more moves one hand to John’s thigh. 

“Jesus,” Arthur mutters. 

“Don’t be coy, Arthur,” Charles says softly and looks up at John in his lap, “What do _you_ want?”

“What- What Arthur said, on the phone,” John says quickly. 

“Mm, what did I say?” Arthur asks quietly, slowly taking the reins back into his control, “Can’t recall.”

“… Charles- Charles fuckin’ my throat,” John whispers, “Comin’ without bein’ touched.”

Arthur huffs softly and Charles looks between them slowly. 

“Get down, then,” Arthur murmurs and nods at the floor and John breathes out shakily before stepping off and dropping to his knees between Charles’ legs. 

Swallowing thickly, looking between them for permission, holding the bottle up to Arthur who takes it, considers it. 

“What were you thinking?” Charles asks slowly as he shoves his flannel pants down, under his cock and balls and John breathes out shakily. 

He’s not bigger than Arthur, but he’s different, thicker at the base and curved and John clears his throat weakly. 

“Dunno,” John whispers, “Just figured I should grab it.”

“You clean up in the shower?” Arthur asks knowingly, “You want somethin’ else?”

“I don’t know,” John whispers and lifts up a bit, shuffling closer and moving his hands to Charles’ thighs. 

Charles’ hand startles him with it threads into his hair, thumb stroking along the part. 

His cock getting harder, a little firmer, fuller, flushed at the tip. 

And John just watches, as the veins pulse and Charles shifts, his length jerking in the air, hanging heavy over his balls. 

“Shit,” John whispers and closes his eyes for a second, squirming. 

“… Are you just-?” Charles huffs a small, amused, slightly embarrassed noise, “You like watching, I guess.”

“Fuckin’… _Yeah_ ,” John says shakily and presses his cock against the couch through his boxers, “Jesus…”

“Thought Arthur was exaggerating… About you being eager,” Charles says quietly. 

“Nope,” Arthur murmurs, popping the ‘p’ sound and shifting, pulling himself out through the button placate. 

“Can I?” John whispers, leaning in more, fingertips stretching towards Charles’ cock. 

“Yeah,” Charles murmurs and shoves his hair back, lightly guiding John’s mouth to the head of his cock. 

John makes a weak, needy sound and opens his mouth readily, tongue moving to cup under the head as he looks up at Charles and closes his lips around the flare. 

Hips twitching forward, grinding himself against the couch. 

Then taking Charles deeper, relishing in the low groan that slips out of Charles. 

He moves one hand to support the base so he can bob his head easily, slides his other hand up Charles firm stomach, fingertips teasing at the older man’s nipple. 

Charles breathes out a soft sound and sits up a bit. 

“How rough?” Charles asks thickly, “Arthur said you like… A ‘bit’.”

“He likes it deep,” Arthur murmurs and John glances over, pulling off slowly, spit stringing between his shiny lips and the shinier head of Charles’ cock, “Likes bein’ used. Bein’ marked up.”

John exhales shakily, feels embarrassment swirling in him with the heat and drop his gaze, sitting back slightly, flusters more when he sees the obvious wet spot on his boxers. 

“So, like you?” Charles asks pointedly and John looks up in surprise to see Arthur flustering, shifting to sit up straighter like he’s about to defend himself but Charles just hums, a knowing, appreciative sound and John watches Arthur’s blue eyes dart away, the highest points of his cheeks going cherry-red. 

“Really?” John asks quietly. 

“Not… Not as much, anymore,” Arthur whispers. 

“Oh…”

“Think you just haven’t let anyone, recently,” Charles murmurs and Arthur shifts again and John knows Charles hit something close to truth. 

“… Oh,” John repeats weakly and shifts his hips, sitting a little lower between his calves, toes curling. 

Looking up at Charles and stroking the older man’s cock slowly. 

“Bet he’d like it reversed just as much,” Charles says quietly, watching Arthur, “Him on his knees and you leading the whole thing.”

“Fuck,” Arthur bites out and shifts and squeezes his cock, turning his face into Charles’ shoulder and rocking up into his fist. 

Charles’ hand leaves his hair and his fingers nudge Arthur’s away, wrap around Arthur’s cock and Arthur groans weakly. 

Then whine, quiet and half-muffled and John watches with wide eyes as Charles teases Arthur’s cock, playing with the leaking head and stroking the thick base and dropping down to cradle Arthur’s balls, squeezing and rolling them in his palm. 

John shifts to the side and leans forward at an angle, taking Charles back into his mouth and watching Charles play with Arthur’s cock sideways as he slowly sinks down, until he gets that feeling of danger, of ‘don’t- what are you doing?’ from the back of his mind and Charles’ cockhead is dipping into his throat, leaking pre-come that he swallows readily. 

“Shit, John,” Charles whispers and John swallows again before relaxing into it. 

Watching as Arthur’s cock jerks, dripping, and Charles’ fingers rub the wetness around, down the older man’s length. 

“You miss it?” Charles asks quietly, genuinely curious and Arthur makes another weak sound, nods, presses his face harder into Charles’ shoulder, “You want me inside you?”

John makes a shocked noise around Charles’ cock and has to pull off, pressing his forehead into Charles’ thigh and trembling. 

Hips rocking lightly into the air, getting no stimulation, seeking friction. 

“You close, Johnny?” Arthur whispers and John nods roughly. 

“You wanna watch?” Charles asks and John curses weakly, moving a hand down and gripping the base of his length through the damp fabric. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casual sex is not so casualllll

“Yeah,” John says weakly.

“Why don’t you open him up, John?” Charles asks and nudges at Arthur who hesitates, eyes darting, avoidant, waiting for John. 

“Art?” John whispers, “Can I?” 

“Fuckin’-” Arthur mutters roughly and crawls down into John’s lap, shoving the bottle of lube into John’s hand before grabbing the younger man’s face and kissing him roughly. 

Deeply, dizzying and John tries to keep up. 

Feels a second hand on his shoulder, then a third on his waist, peeking one eye open to see Charles kneeling next to them, watching. 

John whines softly into Arthur’s mouth and pulls back, grabbing at Arthur’s waist, turning and dropping to lay on his back on the carpet, scooting under Arthur until the older man is kneeling over his face, staring down at him with wide eyes. 

“Should fuckin’ tear these off,” John huffs and tugs at Arthur’s flannels until the older man’s brain catches up and he lifts up, leaning into Charles and struggling to slip one leg out of the pants, letting them stay hooked around his other knee. 

“Are you-?” Arthur asks hoarsely then John shifts further under him, arms wrapping behind the older man’s thighs and mouth moving up to tease Arthur’s balls. 

Arthur leans forward on one hand, grabbing at Charles’ thigh with the other. 

And John fumbles with the bottle until he can get the cap open, moving his thumbs to spread Arthur’s ass and drag his tongue over the older man’s hole. 

“Ah- John,” Arthur gasps as John closes his eyes and squeezes the older man’s ass. 

Then there’s the wet sound of sloppy kissing and Arthur grinds back on his face as he nudges into the hole with his tongue and John squirms, cock leaking on his stomach. 

John slumps back on the ground and drizzles lube over Arthur’s hole, watching the older man shudder as he rubs the lube over the rim then slowly works one finger inside. 

He glances around Arthur when fabric brushes his cock just to see Charles straddling him. 

John hesitates then rocks his hips up against Charles’ ass. 

Charles laughs softly into Arthur’s mouth then pulls back, leaving one hand cupping Arthur’s neck while his other settles on John’s belly. 

“You need something, John?” Charles murmurs and John squirms, working a second finger inside Arthur, who breathes out roughly and leans into Charles, “Feeling neglected?”

“No,” John says quietly, “Not neglected… Just- Just worked up.”

“Hm.”

John swallows and squeezes Arthur’s ass with one hand, gripping the muscle and flesh there mostly because he can. 

And he likes the way Arthur rocks back into the touch. 

He never would’ve dreamed of being able to do this, have their roles as such reversed. 

Charles’ hand rubs up his ribcage then down, resting low on John’s belly, thumb brushing over the length of John’s cock, making the younger man squirm and whine quietly. 

He gets a third finger in Arthur and curls them, aiming for that tender spot and he feels something warm drip on his chest. 

John glances between Arthur’s thighs and sees the older man’s cock dripping pre-come onto him. 

“Fuck,” John bites out and squirms harder then Charles’ hand is around his cock and he goes stiff, breathing unsteadily, “Gonna-”

“Go ahead,” Charles murmurs and strokes him, slow and firm. 

John ruts up into the touch and grinds his fingertips against Arthur’s prostate until Arthur’s cock is dripping more on his chest and John comes. 

Adding to the mess on his abdomen as Charles strokes him through it and he pulses come up his belly and chest, making small, punched-out noises, head pressing back into the carpet and spine arching. 

John whispers a curse and works in another finger, biting his lower lip hard as he squirms, Charles’ fingers ghosting over his cock. 

Charles pulls away and sits back, just watching Arthur rocking back on John’s fingers, the older man desperately holding back any sound. 

“How do you want it?” Charles asks the older man quietly. 

“Behind,” Arthur whispers shakily.

“John?” Charles asks, “Think he’s ready?”

“I- Yeah,” John says, looking up the line of Arthur’s spine then pulling his fingers out. 

Charles guides Arthur into turning around until he’s on all fours, kneeling over John. 

Arthur’s cheeks are bright red and he’s not quite meeting John’s eyes. 

“Hi,” John says shakily then internally curses himself for being so awkward. 

Arthur’s quiet for a moment then huffs, finally meeting John’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Arthur whispers. 

“Ready?” Charles asks, gently squeezing Arthur’s hip as he lines himself up. 

Arthur makes a rough sound of agreement and John watches as Arthur’s lips part on a shaky inhale, one of Arthur’s hands moving to grip John’s upper arm. 

“God,” Arthur whispers and bows his head as Charles seats his cock fully inside. 

“Alright?” John whispers, looking up at Arthur as his arm is squeezed. 

“Good,” Arthur says weakly, “So good.”

“Been a while,” Charles murmurs as he leans over Arthur’s back, grinding into the older man, making Arthur let out a small sound, almost a whimper. 

“Too long,” Arthur whispers and looks down at John, “Way too long.”

“Whose fault is that?” Charles huffs and presses down on Arthur’s upper spine, making the older man lean down. 

Arthur fights it for a moment then gives in, hiding his face in John’s neck and slipping his arms behind the younger man’s waist, holding John tightly. 

“Relax, Arthur,” Charles says quietly and catches John’s eye over the older man’s shoulder, “You’re fine.”

Arthur curses against John’s neck and Charles starts to slowly fuck into the older man. 

John tentatively moves one hand to the back of Arthur’s head, gently combing his fingertips through Arthur’s hair. 

Charles thrusts a little harder and Arthur jerks against him, letting out another one of those small, whimpering noises. 

“Shh,” John pets over Arthur’s hair, meeting Charles eyes again, “We got you.”

Arthur curses again and rocks back against Charles and John feels the older man’s cock dripping onto his belly again. 

“Close,” Arthur says, just loud enough Charles can here. 

“Already?” Charles teases, “Johnny’s that good with his fingers, huh?”

“Shut up,” Arthur mumbles and squeezes John tighter. 

Then lifts himself back up, groaning and rocking back into each of Charles’ thrusts when they get the right angle. 

Looking down at John’s flushed face then between them, at his own cock dripping and jerking in the air, and John’s, slowly starting to harden again. 

“Fuck,” Arthur gasps, “Charles-”

Charles curses softly and stills and John watches as Arthur comes, cock pulsing and streaking seed up John’s chest, making an even bigger mess. 

John makes a soft, shaky sound at the feeling of Arthur’s come dripping onto his cock. 

“Inside?” Charles asks and it’s hoarse, hurried. 

“Yeah- _Yeah_ ,” Arthur whispers, “Please.”

Charles groans softly and thrusts a few more times before stilling again and Arthur’s expression pinches. 

John tentatively leans up and presses his lips to Arthur’s lightly, just a brief kiss, before laying back down against the carpet and looking up at the older man. 

Arthur’s brows are heavily furrowed and his eyes stay squeezed shut. 

“Can you go again?” Arthur whispers. 

“Yeah, maybe,” John says and Arthur’s eyes open, looking down between them, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, “Why?”

Charles laughs softly and kisses the back of Arthur’s shoulder, peering at John over the older man’s shoulder, looking amused as all get out.

“You wanna fuck him?” Charles asks quietly and John blinks in surprise then slowly shakes his head, “No?”

“No… I-” Arthur glances at him curiously and John shies a bit, “Want it the other way, first.”

Arthur huffs quietly and John flusters more, fidgeting under the older men, essentially trapped until they decide he can move. 

“Well,” Arthur says after a moment of silence, “Not how I expected this to go.”

Charles kisses the back of his shoulder again and slowly pulls out, getting to his feet and helping Arthur up, then reaching down a hand to John. 

John lets himself be pulled up and exhales shakily looking down at the mess of his come and Arthur’s all over his abdomen. 

“Shower?” Arthur asks quietly. 

John gestures at him vaguely, murmuring. 

“You can go first.”

Arthur studies him for a moment then looks at Charles who smiles softly, leaning in and pressing a brief kiss to Arthur’s lips. 

“Go ahead,” Charles murmurs as he pulls back, squeezing Arthur’s waist and looking at the older man in a fond way that makes Arthur’s chest feel tight. 

Arthur leans back in and kisses Charles again, a little more roughly, a little too needy. 

Charles just laughs softly and pulls back, nudging him towards the bathroom, then looking at John, who’s pointedly trying not to stare, looking down at the carpet and fidgeting with his hands. 

Arthur reluctantly leaves towards the bathroom and Charles nudges John gently. 

“You good?” Charles asks quietly, sliding his hand around John’s back and pressing on the small of it, guiding the younger man to the kitchen. 

“’M fine… Surprised,” John huffs, “ _Again_.”

“Yeah,” Charles nudges him against the counter lightly, “I said you haven’t talked enough.”

“I- He-” John groans and drops his head to rest his forehead on Charles’ chest, “I don’t wanna drive him off.”

“How?” Charles whispers as his hands settle on John’s hips, “He loves you, John, you should know _that_ , at least.”

“But he doesn’t- He doesn’t want… A relationship, like that,” John says, “This whole thing’s gonna fall apart when we… When he…”

Charles hums softly and squeezes John lightly. 

“You and him, pretty similar,” Charles murmurs, “Me as well, I guess. How much we value touch, and how much we hate asking for it.”

John just huffs, pressing his face into Charles’ neck. 

“Just let it happen, John,” Charles says quietly, “He’s not gonna just… Drop you, like you don’t matter to him.”

“What if he does?” John whispers, just a bit shaky, “What if I can’t make it good for him? Then he’s gon’ realize he can do better n’-”

“Calm down,” Charles murmurs again, a soft command, the same way he did earlier, “You’re over-thinking it.”

“I know,” John says roughly. 

Charles sighs quietly above him and pulls back just a bit, frowning when he notices John’s eyes watering. 

“Be honest with him, alright?” Charles levels him with a serious look, “If you aren’t ready, don’t push yourself. No money’s worth that, you two will be fine without it.”

“It’s not that I’m not ready… I ain’t scared of him fuckin’ me, I’ve wanted that for… For a long time,” John admits quietly, “I’m scared that after we do, we ain’t gon’ have an excuse.”


	17. Chapter 17

After Charles and John take their turns getting clean and re-dressed they all pile back onto the couch, Charles in the middle. 

Charles leans on John’s shoulder, or Arthur’s, switching if either has to get up, or just when he feels like it. 

Talking quietly about work, or whatever’s on the tv, until it’s late in the afternoon. 

Charles groans softly as he gets to his feet. 

“I should get going,” Charles murmurs. 

“You could stay,” John offers quietly, glancing at Arthur who’s barely awake, comfortable and satiated in the corner of the couch. 

“Thanks,” Charles leans down squeezes him in a brief hug, pulling back and doing the same to Arthur, “But I oughta head up and help Hosea finish clearing the second barn.”

“More horses,” Arthur mumbles and sits up, rubbing his eyes, “You sure?”

Charles snorts a soft laugh and glances at John. 

“You’ll see me tomorrow,” Charles says to Arthur who huffs and stands. 

“I know that,” Arthur mumbles, “Told you, s’not the same.”

“You gonna walk me to my truck, Prince Charming?” Charles teases as he moves around to gather his things. 

“’M tryna be polite,” Arthur protests, rolling his eyes, and turning to look at John, “You wanna call for some pizza or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” John says and struggles to his feet, to find his phone. 

\--

John sneaks in another hug before Charles is out the door and Charles holds him to his chest for a moment, murmuring in his ear. 

“Take care, John.”

And John can’t stop thinking about those words and everything he’s learned about Arthur today and when he’s called in their regular order and Arthur’s already back on the couch, he feels a little braver, but just as anxious, when he sits in the middle and slowly lays down, his head on Arthur’s thigh. 

Arthur’s quiet, unprotesting, but his hand comes up and strokes over John’s hair lightly, combing back the messy strands and tucking them behind John’s ear. 

“You good?” Arthur asks quietly, “… Scared me, gettin’ all panicked like that. Ain’t seen that happen in a while.”

“I’m fine,” John mumbles, “Just… Got in my head about it.”

“… You know I’d never wanna force you into-”

“It wasn’t that,” John says quickly, turning onto his back to look up at Arthur. 

Arthur’s hand shifts to settle high on his chest, warm and heavy just below the base of his throat. 

“I… I didn’t know you and Charles had done anythin’,” John says and Arthur nods, frowning down at him softly, “I just… I’ve only really done stuff with you, and I didn’t know really what you wanted from invitin’ Charles here, or if… If you’d’ve rather just had Charles without me in the way.”

Arthur quiet for a long moment, looking down at him, then the older man sighs and leans back into the cushions. 

“’M sorry,” Arthur mumbles, “We coulda talked more before… Before doin’ anythin’.”

“I’m not mad at you or nothin’,” John whispers, “I know I’m frustratin’ when I… When I keep puttin’ this off.”

Arthur’s fingers had been tapping on his chest in a slow, uneven rhythm, absent movements. 

Now, they’re still. 

“… I got the job,” John says quietly, “At the feed store.”

“Oh.”

“So… This week,” John whispers, “If you still wanna.”

Arthur’s still got his head leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. 

“If… If you found a job, then we don’t really need to,” Arthur says quietly and John sucks on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from arguing. 

“Right,” John says hoarsely. 

“… Be nice to have some extra cash, though,” Arthur continues, tapping his index finger once on John’s chest. 

John has to swallow down the burning in his chest that makes him wanna cry. 

Because that was always the incentive for Arthur, money, but it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it so plainly. 

“Right,” John whispers again. 

“You gonna stop?” Arthur asks quietly, “After this one?”

“… Haven’t decided,” John whispers, “Like you said, extra cash… S’nice to have ‘round.”

Arthur hums softly and taps his fingers on John’s chest a couple more times, then nudging John to sit up.

John moves, though he doesn’t want to. 

“Pizza’s pro’ly close,” Arthur mutters, “Lemme put on a shirt.”

\--

John doesn’t wanna be alone. 

It takes him a while to understand what specific feeling is keeping him up as he’s laying in his bed. 

Then it hits him, he’s lonely. 

In a nauseating, heartbroken way.

Frowning at the ceiling, rubbing angrily at his face. 

He shouldn’t be _lonely_ , he spent all day with Charles and Arthur. 

But it’s an emptiness, in his bed, without another person. 

He doesn’t wanna bug Arthur, but he’d like to get some sleep without this thrumming sadness in his chest. 

He slowly crawls out of his bed, and walks down the hall to Arthur’s door, pausing. 

Not since he was a child, can he remember any particular time where he felt so fucking needy. 

But there’s something intensely upsetting about all of this, to the point where he wishes he’d been more careful, that Arthur never would’ve found out. 

“John?” Arthur calls quietly from in the dark room and John startles. 

“… Yeah?” 

“What’re you doin’?” 

“I… I can’t sleep,” John says quietly, trying to think of a convenient lie for why he was standing at Arthur’s door but what’s the point?

He hears Arthur sigh quietly. 

“Yeah, me neither.”

John hears the invitation in it, so he slowly pushes the older man’s door open and steps inside, shuffling through the dark. 

“C’mere,” Arthur murmurs and John follows the sound of fabric shifting until he bumps into the bed and Arthur’s hand finds his thigh in the dark, tugging him onto bed. 

John goes with it, placing his knees carefully to not accidentally hurt Arthur as he crawls over the older man. 

Then lays down on his back next to Arthur. 

“Why can’t you sleep?” John asks quietly. 

“… Y’know I asked Charles if he wanted to live here once?” 

“… I didn’t.”

“Yeah, think it was… I dunno, a while back,” Arthur sighs quietly and rubs his face and John turns to look at the vague shapes of the older man in the dark, “He ain’t fond of drivin’ more than he has to, just finds it easier to live there, and then I’m usually the one drivin’ on deliveries and pick-ups.”

“So, he said no.”

“He did.”

“I miss him,” John admits quietly, “Told him that.”

“Yeah?” 

“Miss everyone, miss the whole… Set up, I guess, when everyone was together.”

"Felt like I was bein' forced to take a side," Arthur mutters, "When Hosea n' Dutch split."

"We've talked about this," John whispers, "Before." 

"I know… 'M just ramblin'," Arthur sighs again and turns on his side towards John, tugging at the younger man, gathering John into his arms. 

John lets him, feels just a little bit of his soul settling when Arthur’s arms are tight around his back and he can press his face into the older man’s neck.

“… Would you date him?” John asks quietly, and the question more just slips out than anything else. 

“Charles?” Arthur hums softly and his hand strokes up and down the top of John’s spine, “Don’t think he’s lookin’ to settle down.”

“… But you would?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Arthur murmurs, “Why?”

“… You just- You haven’t, in a while, been in a relationship,” John says slowly, “Kinda odd for you.”

Arthur huffs quietly and squeezes John. 

“Don’t got time for that,” Arthur mutters, sounding a bit sleepier, “Gotta work n’ gotta take care of you.”

John feels his face flushing and he’s glad Arthur can’t see him. 

Burrowing in closer and holding the older man tightly, finally able to fall asleep. 

\--

When John wakes up he’s still in Arthur’s bed but Arthur’s not, and the sheets next to him are long cold. 

John squints in the brightness of the room, rolling over to look at Arthur’s alarm clock and groaning when he sees it’s nearing noon. 

Arthur’s already left for work. 

John struggles with the covers and half-heartedly remakes the bed before shuffling into the kitchen. 

There’s coffee in the pot, set to ‘keep warm’, and when John opens the fridge there’s a plate of biscuits and gravy for him to reheat. 

“Shit,” John whispers before closing the fridge and leaning against it, covering his face, “You’re a fool, John.”

\--

They sleep in their respective beds leading up to the day of the stream. 

John hops up onto the counter as Arthur’s making coffee. 

“Mornin’,” Arthur mumbles, voice still thick and rough with sleep. 

“Mornin’.”

Arthur starts the coffee maker then turns and leans back on the counter opposite John, looking up at the younger man. 

“We should… Talk, ‘bout what you want tonight.”

“… What?”

“Y’know… Position, or… Just how you wanna go about this.”

John’s brows furrow a bit and he looks down at his socked feet swinging lightly in front of the counter. 

“I was gonna ask… A couple of the regulars, what they wanted to see,” John murmurs. 

“… John-”

“They’re payin’ for it.”

“Yeah, but it’s still…” Arthur sighs quietly and rubs at his eyes, “What do _you_ want?”

“… I don’t know,” John says slowly, “I don’t want it to hurt, that’s all I can really ask for.”

“Jesus,” Arthur whispers and drops his hand, gesturing roughly at John, “That’s it?”

“Why’re you gettin’ mad at me?” John frowns harshly at the older man, leaning back a bit. 

“You’ve spent so long holdin’ off on this just to-” Arthur makes a rough sound, cutting himself off, turning around and grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, “I just don’t get it.”

“What am I supposed to ask for, Arthur? I just don’t want it… I trust you, yeah?” John’s voice gets a bit shaky, “Okay?”

Arthur’s quiet for a long moment, and just the sound of the coffee trickling into the pot fills the kitchen. 

“I don’t wanna be difficult,” John says softly, fidgeting with a small hole in his pajama pants. 

He should really buy new ones, or stitch a patch on these. 

“You should still enjoy it,” Arthur says awkwardly as he rubs at the side of his neck. 

“Have I done somethin’ to make you think I don’t enjoy-” John huffs and gestures at himself roughly, “I like it all, Art, everythin’ we’ve done, but I’m… I _don’t_ wanna be _difficult_.”

“Think of somethin’,” Arthur steps closer and grabs the sugar canister from next to John, hesitating, standing almost between John’s thighs, “Alright? Somethin’ you want, tell me before we start.”

“Arthur-” John mutters, tiredly protesting.

“It don’t gotta be anythin’ big,” Arthur says quietly and taps the canister against John’s thigh, “But somethin’ for yourself.”

John huffs weakly but nods, dropping his eyes to his lap as Arthur fixes their coffee. 

**Author's Note:**

> [horny twitter](https://www.twitter.com/swampslip)   
>  [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)


End file.
